Black Mirror
by Soleilah
Summary: An urgent letter summons Tifa back to the birthplace of her past. But along the hard journey, she discovers the letter might not be the only thing controlling her fate. [I'm REALLY BAD at summaries. Please read and review.][Post AC/DoC][Slight CloTi]
1. Glass

**AN: **After including a small cameo with Cloud and Tifa in one of my other fics, I suddenly felt a spur to give them their own story. I have always been a fan of this pairing, since it seems to be the most canon (considering Aerith is kinda dead). There are a lot of interesting takes on their relationship already out there, but I hope to give it my own spin with this story. Those who read my other fics know by now that I don't do romance for the sake of romance, so get ready for a wild ride!

If you enjoy this series, please leave a fav, follow, or review. I try to keep my stories as canon as possible, but I'd love to hear your feedback and suggestions about where the story is headed! Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any Square copyrighted material!

* * *

It was the third day in a row Tifa had woken up to an empty house. It was becoming more of a frequent occurrence now that Denzel was a teenager and Marlene back with her father, but she still couldn't quite get used to it. The bar was unnerving when empty, filled now with unfamiliar creaks and echoes usually stifled by loud laughter and childish giggles. Every morning, she'd pass Cloud's room to see another note pinned to his board, another file strewn across his desk, and the same half-made bed with his impression still in its sheets. She was happy that the delivery service was booming, but she couldn't pretend she didn't miss the stoic, brooding blonde.

Tifa stretched her tired muscles as she descended the stairs, grabbing an apron from a hook on the wall beside the bar. She threw it on bumped her hip into the swinging door, pushing her way toward the sink full of last night's dishes. It had been especially busy for a Wednesday, and Cloud again hadn't come home in time to help her clean up. She released a long, labored sigh before turning on the tap and diving into the mess.

Her mind wandered as she pushed through the monotony, and she somehow found herself coming up with reasons why Cloud had been so absent lately. The theory that seemed the most probable brought her back to the Sunday before last. They'd just returned home at three in the morning from searching the entire city for Denzel, after he hadn't come home by his curfew. They had eventually found him smoking cigarettes with some troublemakers from his school, and Cloud had given him a lecture like no other on the way home. It had surprised her quite a bit to hear him be so candid with the teen. He was usually quiet and reserved around Denzel and Marlene, never wanting to come off too fatherly to them. He always said that he didn't want to replace something they already had.

That night had been drastically different, however. It was the first time in years Tifa heard Cloud raise his voice. He told Denzel how disappointed he was and that his real parents would have been ashamed. When Cloud was finished, Tifa could have sworn she heard Denzel sniffling. She moved between the two boys, who walked in silence the rest of the way.

When they'd returned home and sent Denzel to his room for a week, Cloud and Tifa both found themselves back in the bar, wide awake and stressed from the hours spent searching the city. Tifa had already fixed herself a stiff drink, and Cloud immediately asked for one himself. After a few sips spent in tense silence, the pair had broken into hysterical laughter. Tifa thought they might have sounded mad to anyone within earshot. They spent the rest of the night getting drunk and recounting old stories of their childhood days, when Cloud would get into fights with the neighborhood boys for no reason, and when Tifa used to cut classes to make out with Johnny behind the gym. They knew they were no better than Denzel, but they also knew he needed to be scolded, and that it had been the right thing to do. Still, the booze made them feel better.

It was almost sunrise when Tifa had finally decided to go to bed, and Cloud, insisting on taking her glass to the sink for her, stumbled around behind the bar, nearly breaking the swinging door with his drunken muscles. When he'd reached for the glass, he somehow lost his footing and had ended up falling against her, pushing Tifa back against the bar, her cheek brushing his. Cloud had of course immediately backed away, dropping both glasses on the ground in the process. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red and he stooped to clean the mess, but Tifa stopped him. Half drunk, half angry, and absolutely embarrassed, she insisted he go to bed before he broke something else. Cloud stood straight up, hurt, and turned his back to her, wobbling up the stairs in silence.

She'd barely spoken to him in the days after that, each one only sparing the other a glance as they passed in the bar here and there. A week later when Tifa had gone down to clean the dishes after a busy Saturday, she found them already done. Two new glasses were resting on the bar, with flowers from the church sitting inside them.

The thought of this brought a smile to her lips as she toweled the last of the dishes dry, placing it on the rack above the liquor shelf. Cloud was a mysterious guy, and though he had many reasons to be, his mystery often confused her. She would prefer him to just be candid with her, as he had been with Denzel, instead of trying to be drunkenly chivalrous or giving her gifts of apology.

Once the bar was in decent shape, Tifa made her way to the front door, and she opened it to the warm, midmorning air. Summer was slowing drawing to a close, and the air now had a crisp bite to it that refreshed her senses. She walked around to the right where a large, empty barrel sat, and she pushed it over a bit to reveal a stack of mail concealed beneath. She grabbed it and headed back inside, sifting through the various bills and newsletters, stopping on a postcard from Barrett and Marlene. She was riding on her father's shoulders (at 11, she was getting a bit old for it, but she still looked appropriately small compared to him), and they were standing on a cliff above the new oil fields Barrett had discovered almost two years before. Smiling, Tifa pinned the picture up next to the rest of the family portraits on the wall beside the bar.

She was getting ready to throw the rest of the mail on the counter when a familiar name made her freeze in her tracks. Her heart began to thump up into her throat as she pulled the envelope out of the stack and turned it over in her hands, tracing the return address scribbled almost illegibly on the front of it. _Zangan_.

Tifa tore open the packaging and unfolded the worn paper, her eyes scanning its message urgently:

_My dear Tifa,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am sorry I have not reached out to you sooner, but I did not know where you might be. I wondered for many years if you had found the letter I left for you in Nibelheim. To quell my musings, and to satisfy others, I made my way back to that ghost of a town, the town I once knew like the back of my hand. I am pleased to say that it did not feel like a nightmare to return there. Shinra abandoned the town after the fall of Meteor, and its paid actors left with it. There were very few natives left to come back here, but a small colony of peace-loving people has migrated to your once beloved hometown. A sweet young mother and her sprightly little girl are now living in your old home. They have taken me in, and I am writing you this very letter from your window sill. Though is it really your window sill? Shinra's meddling has made this town lose some if its luster._

_I am glad you found the gift I left for you all those years ago, and I hope you have been able to put it to good use. I met a man in the pub a few weeks ago who said he was from Edge, and he told me of the wonderful Seventh Heaven bar there, with the beautiful waitress, Tifa. My heart leapt when he spoke your name. I had him put your address on a napkin so that I could write to you. I wish I could say that I was doing so just to wish you well, but I'm afraid things are not quite that simple—they never have been, not since the nightmare that burned this town to the ground eight years ago. _

_I require your help, Tifa, my dearest student. There have been strange happenings in Nibelheim of late—the townspeople speak of a dark apparition that comes down from Mount Nibel at night and ruins crops, steals livestock, and even poisons the well. I did not believe it myself until I saw a young boy keel over after drinking the water straight from it. I suspect it is something evil left over in the reactor up there, but I am an old man now. I cannot go to investigate this matter, and the townspeople are much too afraid to do so themselves. I regret to ask you to undertake such a dangerous task, but I do not know who else to turn to. I do not wish to see this sweet, placid town fall to darkness once more._

_Whether you choose to come or not, I want you to know, dear Tifa, that I am proud of you and the woman you have become. You are the realization of a true dream for me—I knew from the moment you stepped into my dojo that you would be a master, and a master you have become. I hope that I get to see you one last time before my old eyes go blind and hear your voice before I'm buried six feet under. _

_Always be brave._

_Zangan_

* * *

It was a slow day for deliveries. Cloud had only made three that day, all within a 100 mile radius of Edge, when he finally decided to call it quits. He was hesitant to return to the bar so early, knowing it might be awkward to be alone with Tifa again. He still hadn't forgotten his embarrassing encounter with her a week and a half earlier. His cheeks got hot every time he thought about it, but somehow he knew it wasn't just because he was embarrassed. He remembered the sweet smell of her perfume and her soft cheek next to his—all the things he hadn't taken the time to notice or appreciate in years. He had wanted to apologize for being such a dunce that night, but it seemed easier to just pretend it had never happened, rather than acknowledge the strange feelings that had been churned up by the encounter.

With a sigh, Cloud knocked back the kickstand on Fenrir and started the ignition, sending the machine roaring to life. He sped out of Healen, where he'd made his most recent delivery, and made his way over the plains toward Edge.

The short ride was over much too quickly—he soon found himself only blocks away from the bar with still half the day left. He would have to find ways to busy himself in order to stay out of Tifa's hair.

The garage door beside the bar crawled open on his approach, and he eased the bike into the dark room before sending the door closed behind him. He powered Fenrir down and opened its compartments, placing one lone piece of his fusion sword inside. It had been days since he'd actually had to use the thing, and even then only if he chose to take the shorter, more dangerous delivery routes as opposed to the safer ones. He was, of course, happy to see that the roads were cleaning up, but some part of him—the part of him that wasn't really _him_—was itching for a good fight.

Cautiously, Cloud made his way toward the door that linked the garage to the bar. He pushed it open slowly and peered inside, seeing no sign of Tifa within. He walked quietly up the stairs and turned to see Denzel's room, empty and messy, as usual. He rolled his eyes and continued on, figuring Tifa must have gone out for the day.

He turned into his room and shrugged out of the sheath slung of her shoulders, hearing it clatter to the ground. When he closed the door to shed more layers, he almost cried out at the sight of a head of brown hair standing by the window.

"Tifa!" he exclaimed. She wheeled on him, and a bad feeling roiled through his stomach at the distraught look on her face. "What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "You're home early," she said, her voice a surprisingly even keel.

"Slow day," he replied simply, still uneasy. "Is everything alright?"

Tifa moved toward him suddenly, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and looked hard at him. Slowly, she unfolded her arms and held out a piece of paper, clutched and crumpled in her hand.

Cloud stared at it for a while before taking it up and scanning it briefly.

"It's from Zangan," Tifa spoke as he read. "He wants me to come back to Nibelheim."

Cloud's heart sank at the mention of his old hometown. Nothing good had come from there since it had been burnt to the ground eight years ago, and he couldn't see why Zangan would have wanted to return to it, or why he would ever ask Tifa to do the same.

He raised his eyes to Tifa, who was still glaring at him pensively as if waiting for some kind of confirmation. Truth be told, he couldn't determine from the look whether she actually wanted to go or not. She would of course want to come to the aid of her old sensei, but she knew as well as him what kind of dangers and dark memories lurked there.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, suddenly forgetting about any awkwardness or embarrassment that might linger between the two of them.

Tifa puffed up, frustrated. "I don't know," she blurted at last. "I want to go—no, I _need_ to, but I can't just leave you and Denzel here alone, and I don't know what kind of forces I'd be up against over there and I just—"

"Whoa, whoa," Cloud interrupted, grabbing her by the shoulder. "Who says you're going alone?"

Tifa blinked up at him, her mouth still half-open. "But… What about Denzel?"

Cloud laughed. "What about him?" he said. "We can dump him on Barrett. A few weeks with his uncle might do him some good and keep him out of trouble."

Tifa looked away and chewed her lip in thought for a bit. She then took the letter out of Cloud's hand and gripped it nervously. "You'd really come with me?" she asked, casting her warm brown eyes up to him again.

She was, of course, asking if he was ready to return to those twisted memories, and Cloud wasn't exactly that he was. Still, he wouldn't allow Tifa to face them alone. They had come up against much worse than bad memories in their years together—taken on everything from mighty Meteor to a moody teenager—and they hadn't yet broken. He resolved to keep up the trend.

"Of course I'll come," he replied at last. "I've been wanting to use that 'CLOSED FOR BUSINESS' sign Yuffie sent me a while back, anyway."

Tifa let slip a small laugh, half-comforted, as she always was, by his cheeky sentiments. She suddenly and quite unexpectedly found herself wrapping her arms around his middle in a strange, sideways hug. "Thank you, Cloud," she muttered into his shoulder guard. "This means a lot to me."

Cloud, stiff and surprised, and catching a hint of that same perfume that had last made him shatter two perfectly good glasses, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a short squeeze.

A floorboard squeaked.

"UGH!" Denzel exclaimed from the doorway, sending the two of them staggering apart. "Get a room, you two."


	2. Practice

**AN: **Thanks for the follows and the one review! I'm glad the first chapter was well-received, albeit a bit short. This one will continue to build the tension a bit, but I promise I'll get into the action shortly! I hope you've enjoyed reading thus far. If you have, please leave a follow, fav, or review. I always love to hear what my readers think :)

* * *

Steel cut through the air like the beat of a bird's wings—precise, instinctive, efficient. With each strike came the high clash of metal on metal, shrieking and then humming and then echoing, over and over. The air whistled after every cut as if it could feel the sharp edge splitting its particles with exacting power. Each swing fell with absolute purpose; no energy went unspent.

Still, Cloud was not satisfied with his performance, not even with sweat pouring from his brow and the metal target scraped and scarred from the edge of his blade. Frustrated, he coiled his arms back, but suddenly stopped mid-swing and stared at the thing, watching it vibrate from the force of his last blow. Chest heaving, arms shaking, he lowered the sword, feeling the tip come to rest on the ground. With a cynical laugh, he shook his head and turned toward the table on the other side of the garage. He threw the blade onto its surface with a flourish, hearing it come down with a loud _crash_. After running his hands through his matted hair and wiping the sweat from his face with the edge of his shirt, he moved to sit in the chair in front of the table. Once situated, he took the blade in one hand and a huge whetstone in the other, running it across the hot steel with meticulous strokes.

Cloud was so consumed in the sharpening of his blade that he hardly noticed the door open on the other side of the garage. It was only when a small figure stepped through and the door clicked closed that he snapped his head up to see who had entered.

"Tifa wants to know if you're hungry," came the voice of Denzel, mumbled and annoyed, as always. "She's making lunch."

Cloud looked at the teen, who had refused to make eye contact with him ever since he'd spouted a long lecture a two weeks before. "I'm fine," he replied, to which Denzel finally looked up, if only for a second. He hopped down off the wooden step in front of the door and meandered into the garage. It had once been his favorite place—a sanctuary, where he'd spent countless hours watching Cloud practice his swordsmanship or helping him tune Fenrir. Now, Cloud and Tifa had to bribe Denzel with food just to get him to come out of his room once a day.

Cloud watched Denzel as he moved through the cramped space, his eyes roaming over the familiar surroundings with a hint of the childish curiosity that had once been rampant in him. Finally, his gaze settled on the sword clenched in Cloud's grasp.

"What are you training for?" he asked flatly.

"Just training," Cloud replied, running the whetstone across the blade again.

Denzel scoffed and made a face. "You never train anymore."

Cloud stopped. He looked up at Denzel, who was staring hard at him, but he looked away almost instantly. Cloud heaved a sigh. "You're right," he said. "That's why I am now."

Denzel kicked his toe at the ground idly. "Well, do you have to be so loud?" he asked. "I can barely hear my music."

Cloud was hard pressed not to smile at this—held back only by the urgency he felt with the return to Nibelheim looming on the horizon. "Well, now you know how I feel," he replied, stroking the whetstone across his sword again, "every time you blast that crap when I'm trying to sleep the night before a big delivery."

Denzel scoffed again and rolled his eyes, turning back toward the bar. Cloud continued to sharpen his blade, but he watched as Denzel walked, stopping halfway to the door. He turned his head to the wall beside him. There, hung neatly behind a thick pane of glass, was the collection of swords Cloud had procured throughout his travels. Denzel peered at them with his hands in his pockets, doing his best to look uninterested.

"Why don't you use any of these things?" Denzel asked at last.

Cloud continued sharpening. "Don't need to," he replied.

"Well what are you supposed to do with 'em if you're not going to use 'em?"

Cloud stopped and thought for a moment. "Don't know yet."

Denzel scoffed loudly and threw his head back toward the ceiling. "_God_," he hissed, turning toward the door again. "You guys are so _boring._"

This time, Cloud did smile—an amused smirk, but a smile nonetheless.

When the door slammed closed again, Cloud returned to his blade, pressing the whetstone down into it with purpose.

* * *

It was nearing 2:30 when Tifa finally scooted the last of the drunks out of the bar, closing and locking the door behind them. She turned around and rested her back against the cold steel, letting her eyes fall closed as a sigh escaped her lips. After receiving the letter from Zangan, she and Cloud had come to a mutual decision that they both needed the rest of the week to prepare for the trip, which included Tifa telling all the regulars about her absence and Cloud making several last-minute deliveries between his strict training regimen. After word got out that the Seventh Heaven would be closing indefinitely, people suddenly began flocking to the bar to get in a last drink, meal, or chance to flirt with Tifa. The extra work had worn on her, especially with Cloud even more absent than usual. She knew, of course, that it would be necessary for him to isolate himself—to prepare both mentally and physically for the journey to Nibelheim.

Tifa was loath to admit it, but she knew both she and Cloud had let their fighting instincts slip away from them over the past few years. Tifa rarely trained in the martial arts anymore, and though she could still hold her own against a mugger or a drunkard on the streets of Edge, she hadn't had to raise her fists to anything stronger than a Cactuar in the greater part of two years. Like Cloud, she had tried to allow herself time between shifts at the bar to throw some punches, but it only seemed to succeed in making her even more tired.

After fourteen hours on her feet, bed was calling Tifa's name like a sweet lullaby. However, her duties for the day weren't yet fulfilled. In less than twelve hours, she and Cloud would depart for Nibelheim, and neither of them had seen fit to inform Denzel of their plans to take him to Barrett's home near the Mythril Mines. Tifa had a feeling Denzel was already vaguely aware that something was happening, but both she and Cloud thought it best that they wait as long as possible to tell him, in order to avoid any tantrums or angry rebellion. Now though, with their belongings packed up and the "CLOSED" sign hung in the window of the bar, there would be no more excuses to delay the inevitable.

With another deep sigh, Tifa moved toward the back of the bar, passing the door the Cloud's garage on the way. She could hear the sharp clashes of his sword against the metal target, each swing accompanied by a deep grunt of exertion. She knew this training was a necessary step in his preparation process, but she couldn't help but wonder if he was pushing himself too hard. After all, it could be nothing more than some troublesome Dorky Faces making hell for the people of Nibelheim.

When she climbed the stairs, the sounds in the garage fell out of earshot and were replaced with the booming bass of Denzel's music muffled behind his closed door. She stopped in front of it and turned the handle, only to feel it resist to her attempt: locked. She groaned and knocked loudly on the door, only to be met with more music. Again, she rapped on its surface, even louder this time. Finally, the music paused and, a moment later, Denzel answered the door, glaring angrily at her.

"What have I told you about locking this door?" she shot, looking past him into the room. It was pitch black except for the glow of the computer screen.

Denzel rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"We need to have a talk," Tifa replied.

Denzel looked worried at this. "Great. What did I do this time?"

"You're not in trouble," Tifa urged, suddenly remembering she would have to tread carefully with the incoming news.

With an exaggerated sigh, Denzel turned and headed back into his room, flopping onto his back on the bed that lay in the corner. Tifa moved and sat on the edge of it, smoothing her shorts across her legs. She cleared her throat in preparation, feeling Denzel's eyes boring into her head.

"Cloud and I…" she began, turning to the impatient teen that lay beside her. "We got a letter from an old friend," she continued. "He's asked to come help out with a problem he's having. It's very far away. We leave tomorrow, and we don't know how long we're going to be gone."

To her surprise, Denzel was quiet for a long time. Suddenly, he sighed and turned onto his side, pushing his face into a pillow beside him. "I knew it," he said flatly. "I guess that means you guys are going to dump me off somewhere for who knows how long."

Tifa wasn't sure why, but she suddenly felt guilty. She knew that Denzel was just being bratty, but she still felt a bit bad that he had been able to predict the whole situation so easily.

"Uncle Barrett has agreed to look after you until we get back," she continued.

Denzel groaned into the pillow. "Why can't I stay with Vincent or Reeve?" he pleaded, rolling back around to face her.

"They're both too busy to take care of you," Tifa explained. "Besides, you'll get to see Marlene again this way. You guys can play together."

"I don't _play_ with Marlene anymore," Denzel muttered. "Aren't I old enough to stay here by myself?"

Tifa gave him a grave look. "I think you answered that question when you started sneaking off to smoke cigarettes with the Dixon boys."

Denzel actually looked a bit hurt and embarrassed by this, but he stopped putting up a fight. Instead, he rolled back onto his side again. Tifa placed a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," she urged. "I promise."

"Yeah, you guys have made a lot of promises," Denzel muttered into his pillow.

Tifa let her hand fall away, suddenly feeling even guiltier than before. She had always thought Denzel was acting out simply due to the growing pains of becoming a teenager, but the real pains had started only when she and Cloud began neglecting him for the monotony of their day jobs. No longer did Cloud invite him into the garage to work on a project; no longer did Tifa enlist his help unpacking shipments for the bar or waiting tables on Saturday afternoons. Denzel may have become spoiled in the past few years, but it was his caretakers that had been the catalyst for it.

"We leave at noon tomorrow," Tifa said quietly, standing. "Pack up and get some sleep."

Denzel, head still buried in his pillow, grunted and made a dismissive gesture at her.

Tifa moved into the doorway and stood in it for a moment, looking back at the boy lying in the dark. Almost instantly, she was reminded of another bratty boy she'd known in her youth—just as prone to acting out, but just as kind, gentle, and caring underneath it all.

* * *

His body ached—every muscle tingling as though it were on fire, twitches stirring through tendons and ligaments, instinctual reflexes rebuilding and reconstructing—but even four hours after he'd lain down in the cool sheets, sleep refused to come to him. He'd been so sure that the practice would wear him out, but it only seemed to set his mind on edge. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flash of the blade, the spark of the target; he felt the movement of his body, the careful placement of his feet. He needed more of it.

Cloud opened his eyes and looked down at his side, surprised to see his hand clenched tightly around a fistful of sheets. It was how he used to hold onto his sword while he slept, ready to spring into action and protect his friends should danger arise. He wondered when it was that he stopped feeling the need to do this, instead leaving it propped up against his desk on the other side of the room. He turned and looked at the smooth steel—blindingly bright in the moonlight. He caught sight of his reflection in it—tired, unrecognizable eyes. He hadn't seen a face like that in years.

Suddenly, a figure appeared behind him in the surface of the blade—another strange face, shaded by the darkness in the hall. Cloud rolled toward it, seeing Tifa standing in the doorway, gazing somberly at him. Her arms were crossed again—always a sign that something was bothering her. She was wearing a loose shirt and shorts, her hair drawn to the side in a low ponytail. Her eyes were tired, perhaps even more than his own. He held her gaze for a moment before rising to a sitting position, resting his arm on his knee.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Can't sleep."

Cloud wondered for a moment if this was somehow his fault—that perhaps he had worried her with his near-constant absence and intense, unrelenting training. In their strange and cyclical lives, he had forgotten what it was like to have someone depend on him, and what it was like to depend on someone else.

"Do you want to lay down with me?"

He was surprised at his own words, though he knew he shouldn't be. Back then, they'd bunked together, camped together, and huddled together for warmth around a dying fire countless times. All of them had. It was an emotional necessity as much as a physical one—to push on and survive together in the face of insurmountable danger—but it had long since fallen by the wayside, along with all the other habits of that time.

Cloud was again surprised when he saw Tifa nod, though it was curt and hesitant. Slowly, she floated toward him, and he moved over to one side of his bed to make room for her. She picked up the edge of the sheets and slipped under them, slowly falling back against the pillows, turning her head to face him. He remained sitting for a moment, looking down at her, at her fair skin glowing like the steel of his blade. He knew he probably didn't have to, but he pushed up an extra pillow between the two of them to keep appropriate distance. Carefully, he lay back down beside her, blue eyes peering into brown ones in the dark.

Her mouth parted briefly—jaw working up and down, teeth pulling at her lips in thought. Finally, her voice pushed past them, small and close.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Cloud considered her words for a moment, wrapping his arm around the pillow between them. "What else is there to do?"

Tifa let her gaze fall away, dark eyes roaming over the taut sinew of his arm, mere inches away from her. She saw the skin twitch and tighten as he moved. "We could just stay here," she mumbled, eyes still averted. "Send Cid or Vincent instead."

Cloud sighed loudly, sending a lock of his blonde hair fluttering in the wake of it. "We could," he agreed. "But wouldn't that be more like running away?"

Tifa looked a bit ashamed at this, and Cloud felt a pang of guilt roil through him. He knew he shouldn't try to convince her to go if she was having doubts, but he also knew that neither of them had been particularly happy in their sedentary lives in the past few years. Nibelheim was hung like a dying star in their minds, and it would forever haunt them until its light was completely extinguished.

"We can stay if you want," Cloud continued, curious as to what her reply might be. In the silence that followed, his eyes fluttered unwillingly closed. When several moments passed without a response, he opened them again to see her, lying silent and still as a statue. A lock of her dark hair had fallen over her face, shoulders moving in rhythm with each breath. "Tifa?" he whispered.

No reply.

Slowly, he moved his hand toward her face, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

Asleep.

With a pleased smile, Cloud closed his eyes again, mind clear and dark now that Tifa was beside him.


	3. Food

**AN: **Yay for an update! Thanks again for your follows and reviews. This chapter is a bit longer than the other two, but I think it gets the story moving in the right direction. It's a bit of a rollercoaster ride though, so be prepared!

If you enjoyed, please leave a follow, fav, or review. I appreciate any and all feedback!

* * *

It was the first time in months Cloud had not awoken before dawn. When his eyes finally did open, they were met with midmorning light streaming in from the window on the other side of the room. It warmed his bed and left him feeling oddly refreshed, considering the small amount of sleep he'd actually gotten. He turned his head to see an empty space on the bed beside him, but almost instantly, the scent of home cooking alerted him to where Tifa had disappeared to. Surprised, he rose and threw on a fresh T-shirt, heading down the stairs to the bar.

Tifa's face lit up with a sunny smile as soon as she laid eyes on him, her figure darting about behind the bar between cabinets and the stove. She stopped as he neared the bar and wiped her hands on the apron she wore, placing them on her hips with a sharp sigh.

"Good morning," she chirped.

"Morning," Cloud replied, moving over to sit on one of the stools behind the bar. "You've been busy."

Tifa smiled even brighter, turning around to face the counter again. "Mhmm," she hummed, grabbing a plate nearby and wheeling back around to place it in front of Cloud. "I made your favorite: fresh chocobo eggs and Boundfat bacon."

Cloud leaned back and admired the masterpiece, ready to devour it as soon as Tifa placed a fork down for him. "And where did you get all this?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"You don't remember?" Tifa replied, rummaging through the drawers for untensiles. "Chocobo Bill gave us this stuff after you delivered those flowers for his wife last month." She turned and dropped a fork on the bar next to his plate before leaning over it, fidgeting excitedly. "I've been saving them for a rainy day."

Cloud picked up the fork and jabbed it into his still-steaming meal. "But it's beautiful today," he said, chomping down eagerly.

Tifa let slip a clear giggle that brought an uncontrollable smile to his lips. He hadn't heard her laugh like that in far too long. He wondered what had changed in her while she slept that she was now so happy, but it hardly mattered to him. If she was happy, he would be too.

A few moments passed of Cloud eating and Tifa watching him before Denzel showed his face. The teen slumped down the staircase rubbing his eyes and scratching his fingers through his bedhead hair.

Tifa popped up and grabbed another set of plates, placing one down beside Cloud for Denzel. He hopped up into the stool before it, staring for a moment at the food, then at Tifa, who sat her own plate down across from the two boys, still smiling.

"What are _you_ so happy about?" Denzel muttered, taking up the fork beside his plate.

"Nothing," Tifa replied brightly, breaking off a piece of bacon. "It's just a wonderful day for a ride."

* * *

Tifa could almost _feel _Denzel brooding where he sat facing backward on the back panel of Fenrir, bumping along every crack in the freeway Cloud couldn't manage to avoid. It wasn't often they were forced to ride three-up on the bike, but since it would only be Cloud and Tifa for most of the journey, Denzel's request for a more appropriate form of transportation had been denied. He had grown so much since their last triple ride that he now had to draw up his legs in an impossible position just to keep from being burned by Fenrir's massive exhausts. Though it was less than half a day's ride to the Mythril Mines, Tifa still felt a bit bad for the teen, having to sit in such an undignified position for so long. She would have offered to switch places with him, but she was sure Denzel would have been just as offended to sit in the middle.

Time passed quickly on the bike, the landscapes a subtle blur of morphing colors—growing from gray to brown to green to blue the further they moved from Midgar and Edge. Though the use of Mako energy had ceased almost completely after the fall of Meteor, the landscape would take years—perhaps centuries, as Nanaki had once hypothesized—to recover from such abuse and pollution. Still, there was hope in the untouched lands of Gaia: in the jagged cliffs near Healen, the sprawling plains around Fort Condor, the staggering mountains of Corel, and the picturesque islands of Mideel.

The more Tifa thought about these places, the more she realized she couldn't really remember them anymore. They were no more than faded pallets of color in a muddled pool of memories, quietly dissolving behind the new life she had built for herself. She wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing; she was happy in her new routines, but she often found herself thinking back to those days when she lived every hour of every day driven by a purpose greater than herself. She had once shared that purpose with eight other souls. There was a time when she felt as connected to them as a tree to the ground, and she wondered how that feeling had fallen through the cracks so quickly and unnoticed.

Fenrir suddenly rocked to one side, causing Tifa to clutch to Cloud's side as the bike careened around a corner and onto the dirt road leading toward the Mythril Mines. She felt Denzel lean back against her in an attempt to right his center of gravity and avoid being thrown off. Tifa turned her head over her shoulder to see him glowering out at the landscape, annoyed.

"We're almost there," she hollered back to him over the whistling wind. Denzel simply muttered something incoherent and drew his arms tighter around his small bag of belongings. Though the sun was warm and bright, the cool air left her ears and cheeks flushed and tingling. She was glad she had pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail (a look she hadn't sported since she was as young as Denzel) to keep it from whipping into her face as they rode.

Several dusty miles later, they finally arrived at Barret's lodge, and Cloud pulled Fenrir to a stop beside the walkway leading to its doorstep. Before he even had time to power the machine down, Denzel had already hopped off, slinging his pack over his shoulder defiantly. Tifa soon joined him, grabbing her duffel bag and Cloud's satchel which had both been strapped behind her for most of the ride. It struck her immediately how unsuitably heavy her own bag was compared to Cloud's and realized she'd probably overpacked quite a bit. She'd forgotten what it was like to travel with only the clothes on her back and a few potions in her pocket.

As they meandered up the walkway toward Barret's door, Tifa caught a glimpse of the view from the cliffside. It overlooked a huge marsh bog and the tiny speck that Tifa figured must have been the chocobo farm. A few miles to the east of the marsh lay the rigs that Barret had set up in the two years since he'd found the oil field. It was a wonderful clash of nature and technology—one she thought Bugenhagen would have appreciated.

They reached Barret's door, and Tifa was about to lift her hand to knock on it when it was suddenly thrown back. A brown-haired blur came streaking out, latching onto her. She stood staggered for a moment before she realized who it was—Marlene was nuzzling into her middle, giggling. Tifa gave the girl a tight squeeze in return.

"There's my girl," she said, smiling down at her. "I've missed you."

Marlene smiled back and released her. "I missed you too, Tifa!" She then turned to Denzel, and her smile fell away, just a bit. "Hey, stupid," she giggled. Denzel muttered a quiet "hey" in return.

Marlene's eyes suddenly narrowed as they fell on Cloud approaching the group of them. He stopped and gave her a warm smile, but she continued glaring at him. Finally, she stepped forward, coiled her arm back, and punched him—hard—in the gut. Cloud, more surprised than actually hurt, doubled over and clutched his side. "What was that for!" he exclaimed.

"You haven't come to see me in _three whole months!_" Marlene shouted. "I know you've been past her plenty of times, too! Chocobo Billy tells me he sees you riding around down there almost every day!"

"I'm sorry," Cloud groaned, straightening up and rubbing his side. Marlene grimaced and made a move as if to hit him again, causing him to flinch and throw his arms up in defense.

"Attagirl, Marlene!" came a deep, booming voice from the doorway. Barret had emerged, his huge shoulders bouncing with laughter. "Punch him just like I showed you!"

Marlene turned and smiled proudly at her father, who placed his bionic hand on her shoulder and turned his eyes to his visitors.

"Tifa!" he said, holding his other arm open for a hug. "It's been way too long! Come in, come in."

Tifa moved happily into the embrace, hugging him for a moment before stepping inside the lodge. Denzel tried to move toward the door unseen, but Barret managed to ruffle his hair on the way by. "Good ta see ya, kiddo!" he called as Denzel disappeared inside. Tifa was standing just inside the doorway, waiting for Cloud and her host, when she caught a glimpse of them sharing a brief, but very mature handshake. She was impressed, but she pretended not to notice as they all moved inside.

Barret's lodge was small but very homey. Just beyond the door, there was a small living room with an old TV playing cartoons and a big fluffy couch sitting in front of it. To the right sat a kitchen just big enough for the two of them. A hallway lay on the other side, leading to two bedrooms and a small bathroom tucked between them.

"Marlene's gonna sleep in my room," Barret announced, "So Cloud and Tifa get dibs on hers. Denzel, you get the couch, big man."

"Great," Denzel murmured, throwing his bag on the couch and sprawling down on it.

"Heh, don't sound so excited," Barret chuckled. "Make yourselves at home, everyone. Dinner's in ten."

Tifa perked up. "Dinner?" she asked, surprised.

Barret flashed a toothy grin. "What? Didn't know I could cook?" he said. "Marlene wrote down some of your recipes last time she was there. It ain't rocket science, even to me."

As Tifa moved into the kitchen and saw the pots bubbling on the stove, the delectable smells finally hit her nose. She could tell by the various ingredients which recipe it was, and she smiled proudly.

Suddenly, she felt a light tugging at her arms. Cloud had swept in behind her and was lifting the bags out of her grasp. "Here," he said. "I've got these."

Reluctantly, she let go, embarrassed that he would soon realize how heavy her bag was. She was watching him disappear down the hall when she felt Marlene tug at her hand. "Help me set the table!" she chirped, leading her toward the cabinets.

Dishes clinked together as they worked, and soon Barret put the finishing touches on the meal. He placed the steaming pot in the center of the table just as Cloud reemerged. They all sat down around the tiny kitchen table, elbows bumping and knees scrunched together.

"Come on, Denzel!" Marlene called. "Food!"

"I'm not hungry," the teen muttered in return. Cloud and Tifa exchanged worried looks, but Barret seemed unfazed. "Fine!" he announced. He then grabbed a bowl and dished himself out a huge serving of the hearty stew in the center of the table. "More for me!"

The four of them ate mostly in silence, accompanied only by the soft sound of Denzel flipping through the channels on the TV. Every now and again, Marlene would ask how the food was, smiling proudly at their enthusiastic replies. When they were finished, she rose and took up their plates, bringing them to the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

Barret leaned his huge frame back in his chair, causing it to creak and groan in protest. "So," he began, peering curiously at Cloud and Tifa. "The old kook is still alive, huh?"

Tifa, knowing he was referring to Zangan, cast him a grave look

"Shit, I haven't seen or heard from him since he dropped you off in Midgar. Must be pushin' ten years now. How's he doin'?"

Tifa took a deep breath. "He sounded alright," she lied. She knew Zangan was getting old, but he was never easily rattled, and the situation in Nibelheim seemed to have done just that.

Barret stared at Tifa for some time, and it made her nervous.

"Why?" she asked cautiously. "Do you know something?"

Barret glanced over his shoulder to see Marlene humming happily while she cleaned the dishes. He then turned back around and leaned over the table, looking from Tifa to Cloud, and back to Tifa. "Not much," he whispered. "Only rumors."

"About what?" Cloud asked, his voice oddly deep.

"One of my guys on the rig says he heard there was some spooky shit happenin' in the Nibel Mountains. Stuff like people gettin' lost 'cause the tunnels are rerouting by themselves, and rampant monster infighting. I'm talkin' monsters of the same _species_ cannibalizing each other. It's sick."

"Could it be a monster using a manipulate spell?" Cloud mused.

"What kinda monster you know can make people think they somewhere they ain't?"

Tifa glanced at Cloud. His eyes grew suddenly distant.

"It's probably nothing," Tifa announced. "There was always lots of weird stuff happening when we were growing up, right Cloud?" He turned to her at the mention of his name, but his eyes remained glassy and detached. "The Nibel Mountains are a source of very old magic. The new inhabitants probably just don't know how to deal with it yet." She hardly believed her own words, but she was speaking them more for Cloud's benefit than hers. He seemed mildly reassured by them, and he soon leaned back in his chair, his eyes a cool blue again.

Tifa smiled. "We'll go, say hello to Zangan, check out these rumors, and be back before you can say 'chocobo'."

"What about chocobos?"

Marlene was suddenly standing just beside the table, and the adults exchanged nervous glances at her presence.

Cloud, not missing a beat, leaned up and smiled at her. "Have you ever seen a gold chocobo?" he asked. Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. "Chocobo Billy told me he's got one that's about to hatch. I'll take you down to see it after I get back."

Marlene could barely contain her excitement. "You promise?"

Cloud nodded. "Promise."

* * *

After brushing her teeth for perhaps the last time in several days, Tifa made her way into Marlene's room, where Cloud was setting up a makeshift bed on the floor out of one of the sleeping mats he'd brought. He spread a light sheet over it and moved to lie beneath it. Tifa sat down on the edge of Marlene's bed and began braiding her hair absentmindedly as she watched Cloud get settled. He drew his arms up behind his head and closed his eyes, only to have them fly open a moment later.

"What is it?" Tifa asked.

"I forgot my phone on the bike."

Cloud threw back the sheets, but Tifa stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll go get it," she said.

"You sure?"

But Tifa was already halfway out the door. She made her way through the kitchen and living room, passing through the front door quietly so as not to wake Denzel sleeping on the couch. The sky was dark with approaching storm clouds, and the air felt wonderfully thick in her lungs. A sharp gust of wind rustled loudly through the trees. Tifa took a deep breath and headed down the path toward Fenrir, watching the stars being swallowed by the thunderheads on the horizon.

When she reached the bike, she found Cloud's phone, clipped to the handlebar as usual. "He's lucky he remembered before the storm hit," she muttered to herself, turning to head back up the path.

A golden glint in the trees made her stop in her tracks. After a moment, another joined it, and another, and another. She caught what she thought might be the sound of rustling leaves again, but it grew much louder than any gust of wind could cause. It soon became deafening, and the glinting lights swallowed up the trees all around her. Suddenly, those lights took flight and swarmed the air, black wings aflutter against an even blacker sky. Even in the darkness, Tifa could tell it was a horde of Mono Drives, a size of which she had never seen before, and she had no Materia equipped with which to dispatch them.

The swarm dived on her, all chattering and screeching in ear-splitting tones. "_Warning!_" they cried, "_Enemy sighted! Enemy sighted!"_ Tifa made a mad dash for the house, but the horde was on her in seconds, dragging their sharp drills across her shoulders and back as she ducked down low, overpowered. "Help!" she cried, hoping Denzel would hear through the thick metal door. "Help me!"

"_Help me, help me!_"

Tifa's blood ran cold at the sound of her own voice echoing through the horde of Mono Drives. "_Promise—promise, promise—!" _She screamed at the top of her lungs, but the swarm of them simply threw it right back at her. "_Hate them—hate—hate them!_" She tried to force the Mono Drives back with her arms, but they clipped her skin with their sharp drills, sending pain shooting through her extremities. "_CL—CL—CLOUD!"_

Suddenly, over the screaming horde came the sound of gunfire, and with it a brief respite from the onslaught. Tifa felt a pair of arms grasping at her bloodied shoulders, almost slipping in the slick red liquid, pulling her up to her feet. She was led, stumbling, over hard ground and into the darkened lodge, the door slamming hard behind her. It became instantly silent, and her ears were left ringing in the wake.

Tifa was lain carefully onto the couch, her wounds stinging at the rough fabric, and she finally opened her eyes to see Cloud, Barret, Denzel, and Marlene standing over her looking gravely concerned.

"What the hell happened?!" Barret shouted, his gun retracting back into his bionic arm.

Tifa sat shivering for a moment, looking at the blurred faces of her friends. "M-M-Mono Drives," she whispered, touching the cuts and scrapes on her arms. They were only skin deep, but they stung like hot burns.

"I ain't never seen Mono Drives act like that!" Barret shot back, turning to look out the window. The swarm was still swirling angrily in the distance.

"They were screaming at me," Tifa continued, her own voice sounding muffled in her ears.

"Yeah," Barret muttered, "annoying little fuckers. Never seen so many of em—"

"No," Tifa interrupted. "It wasn't just a siren. They were _talking_ to me."

The group of them stared disbelievingly for a moment.

"What did they say?" Cloud asked quietly, his hands still resting on her shoulders.

Tifa looked at him, her eyes wide, remembering what the creatures had said. "I…I don't know," she lied. "They were talking in my voice. Mirroring what I said."

"Wha?" Barret huffed. "How? They can't say anything 'cept what they programmed to say."

Tifa stared at her friend, a little hurt that he didn't believe her. "I know," she whispered, looking away. "I'm just telling you what I heard."

The group of them fell silent, and just beyond the walls of the lodge came the sound of the Mono Drives receding into the distance. Marlene clutched her father's hand and Denzel dropped onto the armrest of the couch, his hair frazzled and eyes red-ringed.

Finally, Cloud spoke. "Come on," he said, lifting her gently. "Let's get you cleaned up. We'll worry about it in the morning."

Tifa rose like a ghost, gliding across the floor beside Cloud, her mind swallowed by the sounds of her own screams.

* * *

Cloud drew his hand back quickly when Tifa winced, her whole body tensing at his touch. "Sorry," he muttered, returning to dabbing a deep gash that had been cut into her back. They were sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, Cloud working to bandage her wounds by the dim light in the ceiling. Tifa grimaced as he blotted her cuts, her arms and legs dappled with fresh bandages. He was efficient with cleaning her wounds—he'd had much practice on himself—but not very gentle. After another stinging touch, she uncorked the potion he'd given her and downed the whole thing in one gulp, feeling the serum numb her pain in an instant. She dropped the empty bottle into the trash can filled with bloodied gauze.

"You believe me, right?"

Cloud stopped dabbing as she spoke, looking at her tired face, cheek bearing a small scrape. "Of course," he replied, returning his attention to her wounds.

"What could have made them do that?" she continued. Her voice was no more than a hushed whisper, her arms clutching to herself, body tensing uncontrollably with every touch.

Cloud tossed the bloody gauze into the trash can and took up a fresh bandage. "Monsters are always evolving," he said simply, pressing the bandage into her back. "I see it all the time in my travels. Sometimes they learn new attacks, sometimes they breed or transform. Things have been different ever since we stopped using Mako energy."

Tifa sighed, tucking her braid back over her shoulder as he finished. "It just wasn't…_right_," she said, remembering the cries the creatures had echoed so clearly.

Cloud stood suddenly, holding out his hand for her to take. "It's over now," he assured her. "Let's try and get some sleep. We've got an early morning ahead of us."

Tifa grasped onto his forearm and struggled to her feet, limbs tingling with the familiar pain of battle.

Slowly, the pair of them made their way into Marlene's room, and Cloud set her down on the small bed inside. Tifa swung her legs up and tucked them beneath the sheets, wincing and hissing as she lay down on her bandages. Cloud sat beside her for a moment, peering down at her with a concerned look in his eyes.

"Are you alright now?"

Tifa gazed up at him, dark shadows cast on his face by the moon shining in through the blinds on the other side of the room. She shook her head slowly.

Cloud's shoulders rose with a deep breath, the air whispering out of him long and slow. He pulled back the sheets and slipped in next to Tifa, this time with much less room to spare. He stared at the ceiling for a while before he felt her body curl in close to him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. When she closed her eyes, he felt the flutter of her dark lashes against his skin and smiled.


	4. Beta

**AN: **Boy are you guys in for a real treat. Two days in a row of updates?! I may have, um, been a little bad and worked on this chapter at work. I got the great idea for the first scene while eating fast food in the parking lot (I'm such a sad sack, haha), and I really couldn't resist jotting it down at my desk in the morning. Anyway, I'm sort of playing this story out as it comes to me, so I'm sorry if it gets a little weird here and there. I promise I'll have the details nailed down soon. For now, enjoy this chapter-one that doesn't end in Cloud and Tifa in bed again. Haha!

Please follow, fav, or review if you enjoyed. The positive (and constructive) feedback is really what keeps me writing!

* * *

Like clockwork, Cloud was back to rising before the sun. He had awoken to a misty twilight, the sounds of nature spilling through the draft in the window of Marlene's bedroom. He felt the warmth of Tifa's body lying next to him, though she was facing away from him now, her bandaged limbs sprawled and hanging off the side of the bed. His chest filled with a deep breath, lungs crackling as they stretched to accommodate the fresh, humid air. Slowly, carefully, he pushed his side of the sheets back and rose to a sitting position, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed. He shuddered as his feet touched the cold hardwood, and he sucked in another deep breath. As he rose, the mattress squeaked, and he looked back to make sure he hadn't woken Tifa. She was lying so still, Cloud could hardly tell she was even breathing. Pleased, he turned and nudged through the crack in the door, heading down the hall and into the kitchen.

The sound of the TV mumbled in from the living room, but when Cloud peeked his head over the couch, he saw that Denzel was still sound asleep. Quietly, he pressed himself some hot coffee, his senses reinvigorated by the bright scent of it dripping into the mug. When it finished brewing, he took it and made for the front door, opening it just a crack to look out into the gray light of dawn. The air was still, heavy, and infinitely deep—no Mono Drives in sight. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him, sitting down on the steps with hot coffee in hand.

He drank in silence, watching reverently as the sun rose above the ridge to the east. In the chaos of the delivery business, he rarely had time to enjoy such a slow, natural process. It had always seemed to him that the sun was absent, and then suddenly present, with no transition between. Now, as he watched the shadows slowly disappearing in the valley below, it became clear how deliberate the process really was.

By the time he'd finished his coffee, the sun was fully risen, though still veiled behind a curtain of late summer haze. It kept the air cool, but damp—perfect weather for traveling. He was about to turn back inside and wake Tifa when he heard the creak of the door opening behind him. Denzel's lanky, tired form stepped blinking into the morning light, rubbing his eyes furiously. Cloud moved over to allow him to sit if he so wished. Surprisingly, Denzel accepted the wordless invitation, his shoulders slumping as he sank down onto the steps.

"Sorry if I woke you," Cloud said.

Denzel huffed a short sigh. "You didn't."

"Then what did?"

The teen didn't reply, his bloodshot eyes turned away, scanning the valley below. He was tapping his bare foot wildly on the ground.

"Something wrong?" Cloud pressed, in a somewhat fatherly voice.

Again, Denzel was silent. He scratched his fingers roughly over his scalp and released a long, annoyed sigh. "You guys are never around anymore," he muttered. "There's always something you gotta do, like you're so damn important."

Cloud listened carefully as he spoke, knowing an open moment like this might not happen again.

"I just get so _bored_ sometimes," Denzel continued, resting his chin in his hands.

Cloud nodded subconsciously. He saw a bit of himself in Denzel just then—saw the reason behind the frustration and anger and helplessness. He lifted his hand and placed it on Denzel's shoulder, causing him to turn sharply.

"We're not leaving because we're bored," Cloud told him, his expression stern but understanding. "We're not even doing it because we want to. We're doing it because we _have _to."

"Why, though?" Denzel's retort was almost automatic. "Why do you always have to leave me here? I can help—I can fight."

Cloud was surprised at the young boy's words. "I know you can," he assured him. "But we're going to do the fighting so that you don't have to."

Denzel looked extremely disappointed, lowering his head in defeat.

"No one should ever _want_ to fight," Cloud continued. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. It starts to eat at you after a while, until it takes over a part of you, and it's a struggle to get it back. You should only fight if you absolutely have to. Understand?"

Still, Denzel refused to look at him. Cloud heaved a deep sigh and lifted his hand from the teen's shoulder. "Wait here," he said, standing. "I want to show you something." He turned and moved down the path to where Fenrir was parked, opening the compartments, several flashes of silver popping into the sunlight. He retrieved one of the swords—a short, blunt blade with a bright red stripe extending from the hilt. Cloud returned to where Denzel sat, and the teen's eyes lay locked on the blade. Cloud held it out for him to take, and, cautiously, he did, cradling the heavy steel in both hands.

"I stole this from a SOLDIER 3rd Class," Cloud began, "while I was trying to save a friend from the Shinra headquarters. But I didn't do it because I wanted to. I was there because she was counting on me to be." He paused, watching the understanding growing in Denzel's eyes. "That sword helped me save her life."

After Cloud had finished, Denzel gripped the hilt of the sword firmly in both hands, holding the blade up to the sun. Cloud remembered the times he had let Denzel swing pieces of his fusion sword around simply to entertain him, but this was different. There was great respect in his eyes.

"Every one of my swords has a story," Cloud said, sitting back down beside the teen. "When I get back, I'll tell you all about them. Then, you can pick another one and start your own collection. You can use them if you want, or just leave them in your room untouched." Cloud gave the boy a rare smile. "Just make sure they have a purpose."

Denzel lowered the sword, looking at Cloud, his guardian. Cloud could tell there were many more questions behind his eyes, but Denzel wasn't quite ready to share them. Not yet.

Suddenly, the door flew open behind them, and both boys wheeled to see Tifa standing with her hands on her hips. "There you are, Cloud," she exclaimed disapprovingly. "Why aren't you dressed yet? We're late."

* * *

By the time they reached the valley floor, the sun was already nearing its peak. The morning haze had burned off, leaving the sky a clear, vast blue. At the very edge of the horizon, Cloud could just see the edge of the marsh coming into view. Beyond that, the low mountains of the Mythril Mines rose up like a chain of glittering, tarnished silver.

Fenrir raced along the newly-laid asphalt roads, and it wasn't long before they had passed the chocobo farm. With it came the distinct smell of decaying organic matter, swallowing the air like disease. The marshes had been the source of many headaches for the World Restoration Organization following Meteorfall, what with its cantankerous inhabitant, the Midgar Zolom. The WRO had tried on many occasions to have it eradicated, but the resilient creature always seemed to escape before it could be finished off, slithering back into the murky depths of the marshes to terrorize another day. Rather than expending valuable artillery trying to take the wretched thing down, Reeve had finally decided to just build a bridge over the marsh, much to the chagrin of Chocobo Bill, who had lost a good deal of business raising and selling chocobos for passing travelers. Still, Cloud was quite glad for the brand new, state-of-the-art suspension bridge, which had saved him time and energy when making deliveries to the other side of the Mythril Mines.

Soon, they were within reach of the bridge, and Tifa buried her nose into Cloud's shoulder to stifle the stagnant scent. Cloud had become used to it by now, but even he remembered the first time he'd come upon it, his eyes watering and nose tingling.

Irritated, Cloud trundled along behind a slow-moving truck as it moved onto the bridge and, once on the straight, he dropped Fenrir down a gear and flew by it, hoping to cross before Tifa passed out from the smell.

They were no more than halfway across the bridge when Cloud began to notice a slight vibration in the concrete. It wasn't until the vibrations traveled up into the thick wires of the suspensions that it started to worry him. He slowed down enough to inspect his surroundings, hoping the movement was only due to a strong gust of wind or a large truck boarding the bridge on the other side. Unfortunately, he knew it was neither.

Suddenly, Tifa gripped hard to his sides, and he heard her gasp loudly by his ear. There was a sound like a boot being pulled from mud, and faster than he could blink, a blur of green had surged up just ahead of them beside the bridge. Cloud threw Fenrir into a deep sideways skid—one Tifa wasn't prepared for. Her grip slipped from around his waist, and Cloud had to correct his trajectory to keep her from falling off, sending him much closer to the Zolom than he'd anticipated. The creature flared its shimmering hood and suddenly lunged at them, and Cloud jerked hard on the throttle to send Fenrir in the opposite direction. Once at a safe distance, he stopped the bike and popped open his sword compartments, drawing the main blade of his fusion sword. Tifa was still latched onto him, and he had to shrug her off in order to dismount the bike. The Zolom hissed and bared its great fangs, spitting venom angrily at the two of them. It suddenly fell back down below the level of the bridge, and Cloud could feel its great body slithering through the marshes beneath them.

He turned back to Tifa, who had slipped off the side of the bike and was now taking shelter on the opposite side of it, right where the Zolom was about to reemerge. "Tifa!" he shouted, but her head remained down.

By the bike, Tifa was rummaging through her overpacked bag for her gloves—why hadn't she equipped them before they left? The bridge swayed as the Zolom made its way under it, and just before it surged up again, she yanked her gloves free and made a mad dash to meet Cloud on the other side. She pulled on her gloves and fell into fighting stance, staring down the creature with a blaze sharp in her eyes.

Again, the Zolom snapped at the pair of them, and they split to either side to avoid its venomous fangs. Cloud swung his sword down hard and connected with the creature's flesh, drawing blood and sending it rearing back. Down on the ground, its forked tail rattled loudly in anger.

While its guard was down, Tifa rushed to the edge of the bridge and unleashed a barrage of punches into its scaly trunk, retreating just in time to avoid another flash of its fangs. Cloud rushed out to meet the lunge, stabbing upward through the edge of its hood, turning and ripping the blade through the thin flesh. The Zolom hissed and threw its great head to the side, knocking into Cloud and sending him skidding across the bridge.

"Cloud!"

Tifa rushed to his side, reaching down to help him up before the Zolom struck again. When she looked back over her shoulder, she saw the creature rise up, bleeding and enraged, and the air suddenly began to quiver and crackle, sparks flying as if the wind were made of flint. The temperature surged through the roof, and a red glow pulsed down from the sky, burning Cloud and Tifa where they lay on the ground. Cloud cried out as the boiling heat swallowed them whole. Tifa, thinking fast, raised her gloves, sending forth a powerful Ice spell to counter the burning fire that descended on them. Her spell broke through it, and shards of ice flew into the creature's underbelly, causing it to sway in pain.

Behind her, she felt Cloud sweep to his feet, and turned to see him enveloped in a blue glow. He growled like an angry dog and set his eyes on the Zolom, drawing his sword up parallel with the ground. Tifa dived out of the way as he suddenly dashed toward the swaying creature, his form a glowing blur, until his blade connected with its flesh. In an instant, he changed his momentum and planted his feet down beside his blade, dragging it up and through the Zolom's underbelly as he climbed toward its head. When he reached its throat, he pulled the sword out with a flourish and kicked off, sailing back down to the bridge, bloody sword in hand.

The Zolom, defeated, crumpled down into the marsh like a gutted fish.

Tifa rushed over to meet Cloud, who brandished his sword and shook the Zolom's purple blood into a splatter on the ground. His breathing was labored, but he appeared unharmed, staring down into the marsh with an iron gaze. Tifa touched his shoulder and glanced down to where his eyes were frozen, seeing only the squirming gray marsh in the shadow of the bridge: the Zolom had gone.

Within seconds, the traffic on either side of the bridge began to collect in a circle, civilians racing out of their vehicles to check on the pair of them.

"Are you guys alright?" a burly looking truck driver asked. "I saw the whole thing! That thing came flyin' up like a bat outta hell!"

Tifa turned to the crowd. "We're fine," she announced, her hand still connected to Cloud's shoulder.

"I'm on the phone with the WRO," one woman said, huddling her children behind her. "They didn't believe me when I told them what happened. They said they built the bridge to a height they knew the Zolom couldn't reach!"

A man in a business suit stepped forward. "I drive this route every day, and I've never seen the Zolom so much as flip its tail out of the marsh. What did you do it piss it off so much?"

Cloud turned and stared at the group, his eyes still stern. "Move along," he instructed, making his way to where Fenrir sat. "All of you. It could come back any minute." The crowd mumbled amongst themselves as he disassembled his sword and placed it back into the compartment of his bike. He mounted it, started the ignition, and knocked up the kickstand, staring hard at Tifa where she stood a few feet away. Feeling as though she were being summoned, she moved toward him and jumped onto the back seat of the bike, causing the people to quickly lose interest. Slowly, they receded back to their vehicles, clearing a path through which Cloud gunned Fenrir, weaving in between the throngs of traffic until the entrance to the Mythril Mines was in sight.

He slowed the bike and entered the cavern, following the winding roads the WRO had constructed in order to allow for cars to pass more efficiently through the mines. Skillfully, Cloud guided Fenrir around the sharp hairpin turns and slick switchbacks, Tifa clinging tightly to his back.

Suddenly, he felt her move her head beside his ear. "What was that all about?" she asked, and Cloud wasn't sure what she meant right away.

"Don't know," he replied, downshifting as he inched past a car on a tight outside ledge. "Guess the Zolom was feeling particularly irate today."

"Seems a little weird, don't you think?" Tifa muttered, linking her gloved hands together around his middle. "First he swarm of Mono Drives, then the Zolom attacking out of nowhere…"

Cloud thought for a moment, giving the bike some gas to make it up a steep incline. "You don't remember the first time we fought that thing?" he asked. "It nearly burnt us all to a crisp."

Truth be told, Tifa couldn't remember ever fighting the Zolom. She knew she had—they had all crossed the marsh together not long after leaving Midgar for the first time—but the memory felt like it had been through the washing machine, all faded and sodden.

"Maybe," she sighed. "I'm just glad we made it out in one piece."

She felt Cloud's chest move with a slight chuckle. "Yeah," he said. "Just try not to forget your gloves next time."


	5. Confusion

**AN: **Please don't be mad, but I cheated again and wrote half of this chapter at work. Muahaha! I'm really really really trying not to make this a habit, but it was kind of a slow week, so I feel like it's justified. Maybe. Anyway, here's another kinda-short, action-packed chapter for you. I think I finally know where I want this to go, and it's not really all that in line with what I originally had planned, but I hope you guys enjoy it either way.

As always, please leave a follow, fav, or review if you like this chapter. I'm playing with shorter wordcount and more action, but if you'd like to see some longer chapters, please let me know! I'd be glad to oblige whatever my readers want to see.

* * *

It was nearing sundown when Tifa felt Fenrir finally beginning to slow down. It seemed to her that Cloud had locked the throttle at full speed ever since they'd left the Mythril Mines. They had passed Fort Condor several hours before, and Tifa surmised they were less than 100 miles from Junon now. She was surprised that Cloud had elected to stop when they were so close to the port city, where they could then board a cargo ship to the Western Continent. Still, she was glad for the respite from the ride. When the bike stopped and she was allowed to get off, Tifa stretched her limbs up to the darkening sky, releasing a long, loud sigh of relief.

They had stopped beside a small river, its placid waters shining black in the shadow of the Junon Mountains. While Cloud busied himself with setting up his tent, Tifa meandered down to the water, removing her shoes to touch its surface with her toes. She flinched back at first, surprised by how cold the water was, but soon inched a bit deeper into it. A shiver traveled up her legs and into the core of her body, relieving the tension built up from the earlier fight and the long journey on Fenrir. Tifa watched the ripples extending from her ankles, disrupting the sheen surface of the water. She had never seen such a calm river before. She looked down and saw her reflection for the first time that day, sighing at her frazzled hair and dirtied complexion. Slowly, she leaned down and cupped the water in her hands, splashing it onto her face. It sent pins and needles down her spine, raising her hair up off the back of her neck. With a shiver, she straightened up and rubbed her hands into her cheeks, wiping them of dirt and dust.

Tifa jumped at the feel of a sudden weight on her shoulder, spinning around with arms raised to see Cloud standing idly behind her. Slowly, she lowered her fists. "Cloud," she said in a motherly voice. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

He gave her a perplexed look. "Why are you so jumpy?" he asked.

"You forget it's been years since I've been on the other side of the mines," she replied, placing her hands defiantly on her hips. "You never know when a monster will show up."

"This is a pretty quiet area," Cloud remarked. "No need to worry." He suddenly handed her one of the canteens he was holding. "Here," he said, "fill this up. I know how thirsty you get at night."

Tifa narrowed her eyes at this, trying to fight a smirk. She snatched the canteen and bent to fill it, Cloud wading into the water beside her with his own in hand. She looked over at him as the bottle filled up, noticing the serious look on his face. Back then, that look never seemed to leave him—that expression of concentration and readiness. She much preferred his smile, she thought.

Tifa drew her canteen out of the water, but before leaning up, she scooped her hand over the surface of the water, splashing Cloud's cheek and wiping the severe look from his features. He turned, surprised at first, then smirked and splashed her back. She yelped at the cold sensation of the water trickling over her scalp and down her back, and she dashed a way to avoid another splash from Cloud. When she reached the bank, she scrambled up it and turned around, only to be met with another spray of mist as Cloud kicked his foot across the surface of the water. "Hey!" she shouted between laughter, trying her best to sound angry. "Stop that!"

Cloud smiled and capped his canteen, wading out of the water as well. "You started it," he quipped as he passed by, heading back to the campsite. Scoffing, Tifa followed, though she was glad to have caught a short glimpse of that smile she so loved.

By the time they'd refreshed themselves with food and water, the sun was already fully obscured behind the mountains, leaving only a strip of violet light on the horizon. It cast strange shadows on the land, and as Tifa looked back over the plains where they'd come from, she could have sworn she saw shapes moving in the shade like ghosts or spirits. She knew it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, but she couldn't help but move a bit closer to Cloud beside the fire.

He took notice and cast her a sideways glance. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"Yeah," she blurted, "I'm cold. My clothes are still wet because of you."

Cloud chuckled. "I take no blame for that," he replied. "Don't start it if you can't finish it."

"Oh, please," Tifa muttered under her breath.

Cloud fought a smirk and placed his hands on his knees, pushing himself to his feet. "Well, let's head to bed then," he said. "You can have the blanket, if that makes you feel better."

"Oh, don't worry," Tifa chimed as she rose to follow him into the tent. "It doesn't."

After some shifting and adjusting, both of them managed to get comfortable in the small tent on the hard ground (though Cloud did let Tifa have the blanket as he'd promised). As they lay there, scrunched together in Cloud's tent really meant only for one, Tifa was reminded of all the times she and her companions had packed together into overcrowded inns or slept under the open sky, just glad for a dry place to lay their heads and close their eyes, if only for a few hours. Back then, she'd slept in wet clothes, sweaty clothes, dirty clothes, and bloody clothes, and she can't remember any of them ever bothering her. She felt a bit spoiled thinking of this, and after a moment, she unfolded the blanket and threw it across Cloud where he lay facing away from her. He shifted a bit at the weight of it, turning his head partway over his shoulder. Finally, he lifted the edge of it and pulled it up under his chin. Tifa smiled and closed her eyes, feeling somehow much warmer than before.

* * *

It broke the air like shattering glass—a scream so feral and yet almost human in its resonance. Tifa sat bolt upright, her wide eyes met with nothing but blackness. Beside her, Cloud's form lay motionless in sleep, and she shook him roughly until he snapped awake as well.

"What is it?" he hissed, blue eyes glowing like weak fires in the dark.

"What was that sound?" Tifa whispered, clutching to his arm.

The worry fell away from Cloud's face. "What sound?"

"That scream," Tifa urged, her voice cracking. "It was—"

She froze as the cry filled the cold air again, frightened more by the fact that Cloud seemed not to hear it at all.

"Tifa, you must have just had a bad dream," he muttered, moving to lie back down.

Angry, Tifa pulled at his arm again. "Get _up_!" she hissed, scrambling to her own feet now. Concerned, Cloud obeyed her, following her out of the tent and into the tranquil night. The dim sliver of a moon lit only the edges of things, and Tifa, hand still locked in a death grip on Cloud's arm, scanned the horizon with strained eyes. The air was so still, she could hear her own heartbeat.

After what seemed like hours of standing in the dark, still as stone, Cloud sighed and lifted his hand to detach himself from Tifa. As soon as he managed to pry his arm out of her clutch, however, his ears finally caught a ripple of sound on the other side of the tent. He thought it vaguely resembled sharp gusts of wind, but he looked to see Tifa frozen beside him. It took him only a split second to realize his swords were still tucked into Fenrir's compartments.

The sound grew louder until it suddenly stopped, and Cloud's heart dropped as he finally heard the scream that had so tormented Tifa.

Both of them wheeled around to see a Hippogriff pacing angrily behind the tent. It promptly reared onto its hind legs and brought its great talons down hard on the vinyl, throwing the tent away like a plaything. Cloud dashed over toward Fenrir in the aftermath, leaving Tifa unguarded and unarmed. He heard her scream just as he retrieved the first sword he could get his hands on, and turned to see her sprawled on the ground under the beast, frantically crawling to get away. Cloud raced back over to her and slashed his sword down to block a blow from its sharp talons. The creature screamed and took flight, its huge wings creating a vacuum that sucked Cloud closer to it. With one hard beat of its wings, the Hippogriff sent forth a barrage of sharp feathers, and Cloud had only enough time to block those heading for his head and chest. The rest of them clipped his limbs, causing them to buckle and drop his guard. With great effort, he moved to swing again at the creature, but it easily dodged his clumsy stroke, diving in to snap at him with its large, hooked beak. Thankfully, the Hippogriff found it instead met with the sole of Tifa's boot.

Her aerial kick sent the creature careening back to the ground, landing on its wings with a sharp _crunch_. It struggled back to its feet just as Cloud managed to limp up beside Tifa again, standing with his blade at the ready.

The Hippogriff let out another cry that would have frozen a less experienced pair of fighters in their tracks. Tifa, hands now gloved and shining with Materia, raised her fists to the livid creature as if to call it forward.

The Hippogriff took the bait, and, with a flourish of its broken wings, charged across the ground at the pair of them, its sharp beak snapping. Tifa ducked away and spun, bringing her heel down hard onto its neck. As it reeled away in pain, Cloud lunged his blade forward and sliced the beast's forelegs, causing it to rear back and beat its wings. Though flightless and broken, the wind that resulted still succeeded in pushing the pair of them back a few feet, arms raised to protect their eyes from the dust.

Tifa managed to reach one of her arms out, her fingers sparking with a powerful Fire spell. It set the wind aflame and traveled up the gust to the source of it, burning the Hippogriff's broken wings. It fell screaming back down to its bloody forelegs and, its black eyes glowing with anger, popped its peacock tail feathers up into a shimmering halo. Tifa dashed toward the creature, but a ray of violet light burst from the feathers, sending her twirling backward several feet through the air, landing with a throaty grunt and a crack in her ribcage.

As she rose to her knees, Tifa felt the world around her spinning, her mind consumed with the sounds of Cloud battling the Hippogriff by himself. She opened her eyes, seeing explosions of light and blurry colors. Gravity seemed to have flipped upside down, but she swayed to her feet in an attempt to help Cloud defeat the wretched beast once and for all. However, when her vision finally cleared, she was met with neither the sight of Cloud nor the Hippogriff. Instead, she saw a flash of black, followed by a flash of white, and heard a singing blade fluttering through the air. Faster than lightning, a pair of emerald eyes was suddenly inches from her face, and the razor-thin blade rose high above her, death itself. A scream caught somewhere in her throat as the blade descended on her, seemingly in slow motion—but she raised her fists in defiance. She would not fall so easily.

Tifa closed her eyes hard and sent her fists flying through the air. She felt them connect with soft flesh, desperately trying to stall the blade's slow, promised descent. She pounded away at whatever she could reach, punching and kicking and screaming—fighting for her right to live. It wasn't until she felt a pair of hands pressing down on her—not the edge of the blade as she'd expected—that she opened her eyes to see Cloud kneeling above her, his jaw clenched and eyes wild, struggling to hold her down. Some instinct in her told her to keep fighting, and not all the strength in the world could disobey it.

"Tifa!" he cried, dodging her flying fists. "It's okay! It's alright! It was just a Confuse spell!"

Her mind told her these words were lies—his voice a shadow of the real thing. But suddenly, his body was on her, taut limbs surrounding her, pressing her into him as if to smother her. At first she struggled, bending her forearms into his chest, throwing her knees into his abdomen, but slowly, painfully, his presence calmed the primal voice in her head. It was almost as if she could feel his blood coursing through him, veins pulsing with each heartbeat, hot and blue beneath his skin. She felt the movement of his throat as he swallowed to wet it, the grinding of his teeth as he clenched his jaw in concentration. They quelled her spasming reflexes, till she was no more than a pool of sweat in his arms.

Carefully, Cloud lowered her onto the ground, his chest heaving from the effort of holding her down. Her wide eyes glinted like glass in the moonlight as she gazed up at him, her body frozen, limbs splayed at her side like dead weight. Cloud moved his hands from her shoulders and placed his palms against her cheeks, pushing the hair and dust out of her face. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes to swipe away her tears before they could fall.

"Are you back?" His voice was grave. "Are you with me?"

Tifa's eyes remained wide, staring up at him as if he might transform again if she closed them. After a long moment, she nodded her head frantically, wrapping her hand up around his forearm.

His whole body slackened as if he'd suddenly lost control of all his muscles. "You scared me," he said, sitting back on his heels beside her. "You scared me so bad."

He let his hands fall away from her cheeks, but she refused to let go of his arm, her grip slipping down to his wrist in an attempt to hold him there.

"What was it? What did you see?"

Tifa was silent for a long time, her body now frozen in fear as she recalled the illusion. Slowly, she lifted her free hand up to the collar of her shirt, pulling it to the side just far enough to reveal the edge of a ragged scar cut across her chest.

"…Him."


	6. Sake

**AN: **Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews! I'm glad you have all been enjoying this so far. I'm actually a bit surprised at myself with how fast this story has been pouring out of me. Things might slow down a little bit now that the plot is thickening, but I hope you'll enjoy future chapters just the same.

Please leave a follow, fav, or review, as always. I appreciate your readership so much!

* * *

"Can you get up now?"

The voice woke her from a deep, black sleep. The words were muddled, distorted—almost inhuman. When she finally opened her eyes, the world seemed drained of color, as if a veil of gray light had been drawn over the land. She heard the droning beat of rainfall, like radio static. Slowly, her vision sharpened. She looked down and saw a pale hand gripping tightly to her shoulder, knuckles white and shaking. She lolled her head to the side and looked up, greeted with the first few splashes of color: blue flares glowing beneath a sunburst of yellow hair.

"Tifa, the rain is slowing down," he said, his voice still muffled. "Can you get up?"

Tifa blinked wildly, her eyes going wide as Cloud's face slowly came into focus. His hair was matted and wet, cheeks drained of color, lips frosted blue. He was shivering as he held her in a blanket, teeth chattering and shoulders twitching. He had strung up the remnants of the tent against Fenrir to create a small shelter from the pouring rain, but half of his body was still exposed. He had wrapped her in anything he could find, leaving himself completely unprotected from the elements. There was a hole in his sleeve where three sharp talon marks were engraved deep in his skin, running red in the rain. Tifa, bleary from the blackout, reached out and touched them, and she felt him flinch back.

As if struck by lightning, she sat up straight and sucked in a deep breath, shrugging out of the blankets and sheets Cloud had packed around her. "Oh, Cloud…" Logic and reason returned to her, and she forfeited the comforting warmth to wrap the layers around him instead, pulling him further under the shelter. Even Cloud would not protest, though he looked somewhat ashamed.

"How long was I out?" Tifa asked, stroking her hands up and down his shoulders.

"A few hours," Cloud admitted, though she knew he had probably underestimated that number. Tifa turned her head and looked out over the gray lands, wet and sodden with rain. In the distance, she saw pillars of light forcing their way through the clouds.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"No," he said, his voice abrupt and strained. "I'm just glad you're alright."

Tifa looked away and leaned back against Fenrir, drawing her legs up close to her chest. Suddenly, she felt Cloud grasp her arm. When she looked back at him, she saw something like fear glinting in his eyes.

"Did you really see him?"

She had almost forgotten that flash of black, the murmur of laughter, the singing blade. She took a deep breath in, her heartbeat slowing to a crawl.

"It was just an illusion." Cloud did not seem comforted by this. He knew as well as she did the kind of pain illusions could bring. Tifa forced a smile and pushed his matted, messy bangs out of his face, letting her hands fall back to his shoulders. "Get warm," she ordered. "When the rain stops, we'll head out."

* * *

By the time Fenrir roared into Lower Junon carrying Cloud and Tifa, the sun's rays were finally bursting through the clouds, burning off the torrential rain that had soaked the land a few hours before. The massive bike raced through the puddles left behind as Cloud gunned it through the sleepy village, heading for the lift at the center of the town that would take them to Upper Junon. The city above was still as booming as ever—the one remnant of Shinra's war legacy still left standing. Now, though, the banners no longer hung a harsh Shinra red, but rather a shimmering green representing the WRO. The Organization's navy now trained out of the city, though a force that large hadn't been needed since the Deepground incident a year before.

Cloud slowed Fenrir as they approached the lift, and a WRO trooper came out to meet them.

"Identification please."

He leaned the bike over, still running, onto one foot and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He retrieved his and Tifa's IDs and handed them to the trooper, whose eyes went wide.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Strife—Ms. Lockhart," he promptly handed the IDs back to them. "The Captain is waiting for you in the hangar. This lift will take you straight up."

The trooper slammed the release button on the lift's bulkhead, and slowly the doors parted to allow them through. Cloud eased the bike inside, flipping down the kickstand as the lift slowly began to rise toward the city above.

Tifa sat back in her seat, giving Cloud a curious look. "Did I hear that right?" she asked. "'The Captain' is waiting for us, huh?"

Cloud hid an amused smile. "I still have _some_ friends left," he replied.

A few moments later, the lift rocked to a stop, and the doors parted to reveal a huge, windy landing field, its tarmac glowing hot under the now-pulsing sun. Fenrir raced out onto it, leaning left to head toward a hangar bay near the back of the landing strip. Once inside, Cloud slowed the bike to a stop just beneath the nose of a huge fighter jet.

Tifa gazed reverently up at the thing, its silver paint shimmering in the fluorescent lights. She was aghast at is beauty, until suddenly her eyes fell on a mural painted on its side—a half-naked woman with the words "Lady Luck" sandwiched on either side of her. She rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, the cockpit hissed open, and a wild-eyed, grayish-haired old man popped his head up over the control panel, smiling down at them.

"Well if it ain't my two favorite landlubbers!"

Cid stood up and stretched backward, wincing as his back popped. He then pulled a cigarette from the headband of his goggles, lit it, and shoved it in his mouth, hopping down onto the wing of the jet.

"Glad you could join the party," he chortled between puffs on his cigarette. "Damn, y'all look like shit!"

Cloud cleared his throat and dismounted, Tifa following suit. "We got stuck in the rain."

"Aw, don't tell me a little rain had ya stumped," Cid quipped "You youngins and yer earthbound deathtraps. The rain woulda been no match for something like ol' Silverwing here." He put his foot up on the cockpit of the jet before throwing his head back in laughter. When Cloud and Tifa only exchanged sarcastic glances, he stopped, scoffed, and hopped to the ground, approaching the pair of them with a huge grin on his face.

Cloud held out his hand for a shake, but Cid opened his arms and took him into a huge hug, lifting him a few inches off the ground. "Good ta see ya, Cloud!" he bellowed, placing him back down. Tifa, though still a little tired from the stressful night, couldn't help but laugh. Hearing this, Cid marched over to her and gave her the same treatment, squeezing her with her arms at her sides, punching all the wind out of her. "Tifa, ya spry little thing, how ya been!" When he released her, she straightened her top and stifled another laugh.

"Fine, Cid. Just fine."

Cid moved back and laughed his hearty laugh again. "Good ta hear it," he said. "So, I hear you two need a ride to Costa del Sol?"

Cloud nodded, leaning leisurely against Fenrir. "That's right," he said. "What are our options?"

Cid popped his cigarette out of his mouth and blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling. "Well I'm afraid y'all'r shit outta luck for tonight," he said matter-of-factly. "I ain't scheduled for a cargo run till tomorrow morning."

"Oh, come on," Cloud said. "Don't tell me Cid Highwind, Captain of the WRO naval forces, can't pull some strings for his old friends."

"Hey now," Cid protested. "Things ain't like they used to be, flyin' willy nilly all over the place in the Highwind. I gotta a reputation to uphold."

Cloud heaved a frustrated sigh. Tifa's cheeks grew warm with shame—she knew it was her fault they had missed their chance to cross the ocean by nightfall, and now they were stuck here the rest of the night. She had successfully set them back an entire day.

"Welp, if you're willin' ta wait around till tomorrow, I'll take ya down to the best pub in Junon for a drink," Cid said. "We can tear up like we used to!"

Cloud kicked himself off of Fenrir, folding his arms into his chest. "Fine," he conceded. "But you're buying."

* * *

"SAKE, SAKE, SAKE!"

There was a bang like a gunshot, followed by two high-pitched clinks, and suddenly Cloud and Cid were downing sake-fizzing beers like their lives depended on it. The entire bar erupted with cheers as Cid slammed his empty mug down just seconds before Cloud, his face flushed bright red.

"That's _right!_" he yelled to the bar, standing on the footrest of his stool. "Ain't nobody can take on the_ Great—Cid—Highwind_!"

The bar patrons, mostly WRO grunts and infantrymen, cheered even louder and patted their captain on the back.

"Oh, sit down, you cranky-legged old man," Cloud jeered over the crowd. "If you fall over, you're gonna break your hip."

Cid, hearing this, fell back wobbling onto his stool, laughing from somewhere deep in his chest. "Another round, on me!" he cried, eliciting another huge cheer from the crowded bar.

Tifa, still nursing her first beer of the night, sighed as another one was placed down in front of her. When she'd first head they'd be going to the bar, she had been expecting a nice quiet night drinking with her old friend. However, when the first round of sake bombs was ordered, things had started to get a bit out of hand. It wasn't often Cloud got drunk, but when he did, he could quickly become a handful.

"Cloud, where the hell've ya been?" Cid suddenly cried, throwing his arm around his shoulder. "It feels like I only ever see ya when ya need something. Why donchya ever come drink with me like this? Huh?!"

Cloud grimaced, taking a big swig of his beer. "I've been busy."

"OH, bull_shit!_" Cid grumbled. "Things ain't like they used to be. You don't always gotta be on the move. You gotta take some time to relax or you'll burn yourself out. You were always such a hardass, even back then. Why donchya let other people handle some of your shit once in a while?"

"Yeah, well, some people aren't cut out for that kind of life."

Tifa turned her head to him at this, peering cautiously at him in the dim light of the bar. She wondered what kind of life he wanted, if not one where he could share his many burdens with others.

"You're so full of it," Cid said loudly. "'Member—'member that time ya'll stole the Tiny Bronco? Right out from under ol' Palmer's fat nose? Come on! What happened to _that_ Cloud?"

Cloud let slip a small laugh, though it seemed a bit forced. "Well, that wasn't really my fault."

"That was my favorite lil' plane," Cid whined. "I was so mad when ya'll ruined it."

Cloud tapped his beer idly on the counter. "Then why the hell did you come along?"

"'Cause I'd never met anyone crazy enough to do somethin' like that!"

Tifa listened carefully as the pair of them spoke, and though her mind was working hard to recall the moment they were discussing, it felt very much like her memory of the Zolom—whitewashed and vague.

"Oh, and remember when we finally took the rocket into space?" Cid mused. "God, it was so beautiful…"

"Yeah, and that tank almost blew your leg off," Cloud shot back.

"Shit," Cid said. "I was hoping ya'll wouldn't remember that."

But Tifa didn't. She recalled their plan to take down Meteor with the huge Materia, but she would have remembered being so close to the stars—and she couldn't.

"Then there was the time we took the submarine down to the ol' sunken Gelnika and—oh, remember when we stole the Highwind back from Shinra—?"

Tifa stood abruptly and stepped down off the bar. Cloud spun around and looked over the many heads to see her weaving through the crowd toward the exit.

"Tifa!" he cried. She didn't reply.

"The hell's wrong with her?" Cid grumbled. "She's been quiet as a mouse since we got down here. Ain't she a bartender? Can't she hold her liquor?"

"No, it's not that," Cloud replied, so quiet Cid could barely hear. "She's been like this ever since we left. I think she's nervous to go back to Nibelheim."

Cid slammed his mug down on the counter. "Tch! That stupid backwoods town? What's there to be so afraid of?"

Cloud shot him a grave look.

"Ah shit, I forgot ya'll were from there…" Cid mumbled. "Damnit! I'm not drunk enough for this! Bartender! Another round'a sake bombs over here!"

* * *

With the shower slowly running cold, Tifa looked at herself in the mirror.

She couldn't remember when she'd gotten so many wrinkles on her forehead, or when her hair had gotten so long and frayed. She seemed like a stranger to herself, and her memories felt like someone else's. It bothered her how fast she had lost some of them—things as young as the battle with Bahamut SIN were already growing gray in her mind. Half of her blamed this on the disparity between that life and the one she lived now—perhaps she was simply making space for more pleasant, happy memories—but the other half reminded her of the last time her recollections had become this muddled.

She shook her head of these thoughts, finally turning toward the shower and dropping the towel tucked around her chest. She rolled back the glass door and stepped in, feeling the shock of the cool stream as it washed over her body.

Cid had given them reservations at the local inn, and she was glad for the opportunity to shower, knowing it might be several more days before they'd reach running water again. The stream seemed to wash more than just her body—it cleared her mind and refreshed her senses. She took the time to focus her energy on the future instead of the past—as soon as they crossed the ocean, they'd be in striking distance of Nibeheim, where she could finally see Zangan again and put the mysterious rumors to bed.

Soon, the water grew too cold for her to bear. She shut the stream off and stepped out into the bathroom again, picking up the towel she'd discarded. She ran it over her hair and squeezed the excess water from it before wrapping it around her middle, moving out into the bedroom where she'd left her bag sitting on the floor. With her free hand, she rummaged through it, pulling out some loose clothes to sleep in.

Out in the living area, she suddenly heard the door open, and she shot up straight. Through the crack in the door, she saw Cloud stumbling inside, his foot kicking the door closed loudly behind him. Quickly, she swept over to the bedroom door, and she closed and locked it. She then dropped her towel to dress in private.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

"Tifa," Cloud mumbled softly.

"Hold on," she replied. "I'm just getting dressed."

When she was fully clothed again, Tifa threw the wet towel into the bathroom before unlocking and turning the handle on the bedroom door. She moved away from it as Cloud pushed it open, standing in the doorway on unsteady legs.

"There you are," he said in a gravelly voice.

Tifa gave an uneasy laugh and moved toward one of the two twin beds on the other side of the room. There, she stood beside it and ran a brush through her hair, watching as Cloud wobbled toward her. He stood across from her, leaning against the nightstand for support.

"Why did you leave the bar?" he asked, squinting at her in the dark.

Tifa sighed as she braided her hair. She could smell the liquor on him. "I was tired," she lied.

Suddenly, Cloud stumbled around to the other side of the bed. "I'm sorry, Tifa," he said, for no apparent reason. She gave him a perplexed look when suddenly he reached his hand out and stroked her braid, his half-lidded eyes glowing as they roamed over her.

"Cloud," she said, pulling her braid from his grasp, "what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered again.

Tifa just scoffed and pulled back the sheets on her bed, slipping down into them and turning away from him. Cloud stood beside her for a while, swaying drunkenly where he stood. She could feel his eyes burning into her, and it made her uneasy.

Finally, she felt him move away from her, and she heard the sound of him knocking into the dresser behind him. It had been a long time since he'd drunk himself to such a state.

In the silence that followed, Tifa closed her eyes and settled deeper into bed, hoping Cloud's inevitable hangover would allow her to sleep off the stress of the past few days. However, she suddenly felt the weight shift on the bed behind her, and she opened her eyes to see Cloud's arm reaching over her in the dark. Like a reflex, she moved her hand up and pushed it away, nearly knocking him off the bed in the process.

"Cloud," she muttered, "there's a perfectly good bed right over there."

But he didn't listen. He rocked his body closer to her, his nose brushing the bare skin of her neck. Shuddering, Tifa lurched away and sat up, spinning fiercely on him. "Cloud, stop."

He leaned up on his forearm with a cruel look in his eyes. "Oh, so it's only okay when _you_ want me?" he shot.

Tifa inhaled sharply, hurt. "Cloud, you're drunk."

"Yeah, so what?" he muttered, sitting up and throwing his legs off the bed.

"So you're acting like an idiot."

He turned his head over his shoulder and glared down at her. "Oh, don't give me that," he said, his voice hoarse. "I came all the way out here for you and you won't even—" He stopped, his jaw clenching.

"Won't even what?" Tifa coaxed.

Cloud suddenly stood, his body swaying into the dresser again. He turned sharply on her. "A little thanks would be nice."

Tifa puffed up and gripped at the sheets, her eyelids stinging with wetness. "Get out." Cloud's face suddenly softened, but she blinked back her tears and thrust her finger at the door. "Get _out!_"

He turned his head up defiantly before pushing off the dresser, stumbling toward the door with hunched shoulders. He grasped the handle on his way out and pulled it closed with a sharp slam, leaving Tifa with tears cutting salty rivers down her cheeks.


	7. Water

**AN: **Thanks for all the follows everyone! Very glad to see this story has piqued a few peoples' interests... I only hope I can keep you all hooked! Thanks also to the few reviewers who are leaving helpful, encouraging words for me. Your thoughts are very much appreciated.

Here's another chapter to tide over you hungry readers! Leave a follow, fav, or review if you like it. Hopefully there will be even more excitement soon to come!

* * *

Head pounding. Throat dry. Limbs numb.

Cloud opened his bloodshot eyes, met with a blinding strip of sunlight bursting through the crack in the blinds on the other side of the room. With great effort, he lifted his hand and blocked it out, squinting as he surveyed his surroundings, unsure of where he was at first. The whole room was spinning, his vision sliding in and out of focus. If he hadn't suddenly remembered how much alcohol he'd consumed the night before, he might have thought someone had poisoned him.

After several moments of rolling his eyes around the room, he finally decided he was lying on the couch in the living area of the inn room Cid had reserved for them. He had only entered it once while sober to drop off his things before hitting the bar, and it looked somehow much different in the daytime. He glanced down and saw he was still in last night's clothes, one boot off and the other half-untied. He hadn't remembered even attempting to remove them, let alone how he had ended up on the couch. Painfully, he racked his brain to reconstruct the events of the night before, when suddenly, it hit him—Tifa's eyes shining with tears.

Cloud sat bolt upright, his head snapping to the door on the other side of the room, still closed and locked. He couldn't remember what he'd done to make her cry, but it hardly mattered. Her tears had come, and he had brought them.

He suddenly felt a sharp lurch deep in the pit of his stomach—at first he thought it might be the guilt, but when his pulse quickened and his palms grew sweaty, he knew it was something much more primal. He stood, stomped his foot into his discarded boot, and made a mad dash for the front door, throwing it open with a _bang_. Cloud sprinted through the lobby of the inn with his hand over his mouth, stomach twisting and turning, higher and higher, until he burst out onto the street. Once at the edge of it, he threw his head over the barrier and expelled the first half of last night's beer and sake.

After a final, exhausting heave, he collapsed against the barrier and spit sour saliva onto the ground, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Never again, he vowed—never again would he assume he could out-drink Cid.

When his stomach once again settled, Cloud lifted his hand to shield it from the sun—it was just showing itself over the mountains to the east. He was thankful, at least, that they hadn't missed their opportunity to hitch a ride across the sea, but their travel schedule seemed of miniscule importance compared to Tifa's tears. There was another lurch in his stomach, and he knew this time it was the guilt. Even when his intentions were good (and sober), he always seemed to end up hurting her somehow. It infuriated him. He knew there was nothing he could do to erase her tears, but he'd gladly go to the Lifestream and back if it meant there was a chance.

There was a deep burning in his chest, and grudgingly, he pulled himself up against the barrier to vomit a second time. He only hoped there was no one walking on the street below him.

As he heaved and retched, Cloud thought what an unequivocal mistake it had been to stay at the bar after Tifa had left. He'd known even then, half-drunk with another sake bomb on the way, that something was bothering her. She hadn't been herself ever since they'd left Edge, but it had become particularly apparent as soon as she'd been hit with the Hippogriff's Confuse spell—and he couldn't blame her, after hearing about what it made her see. If only he'd left the bar when he'd had the chance, instead of pounding back beers and reminiscing with Cid—perhaps he could have comforted her somehow.

Cloud collapsed back to the ground, his chest heaving, abdomen aching, knowing there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up. He was about to pull himself back to his feet when he felt a presence beside him, and he turned his head to see a tiny blue bottle shoved in his face.

"Drink this," a raspy voice ordered.

Reeling back, vision blurred, Cloud looked past the bottle to see a tiny old woman standing over him, her beady black eyes shrunk behind a brow more wrinkled than a Dual Horn's hide. She had long white hair tied in a low ponytail that fell over her hunched shoulders, and she was dressed in ornate red and gold robes. The cuffs and collar were embroidered with strange symbols, but Cloud was too dizzy to make them out. She shoved the bottle closer to his face, and he flinched back.

"Drink, I said."

Cloud nearly went cross-eyed examining the label on it, finally making out that it was a tranquilizer. He looked up at the woman again, and he knew right away that he'd never seen her before. He eyed the bottle skeptically, wondering what had possessed her to hand a puking stranger a tranquilizer out of the blue like that. Was she trying to drug him and steal his wallet? It suddenly occurred to him, though, that all of his belongings were sprawled on the floor of the inn, and he doubted the shrunken woman would have been able to do much with his limp body if it were a drug, so he grasped the bottle and hastily uncorked it, swallowing the entire thing in one swig. After a moment, his skin felt as though a sheet of silk had been dragged over every inch of it, his scalp tingling as the pressure in his head was relieved.

"There, isn't that better?" the lady cooed, walking around to the front of him. "Men—such stubborn creatures."

He looked up at her and leaned his back against the barrier, drawing one leg up to rest his arm atop it. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Well, at least he's polite," she said, moving a step closer. She suddenly kicked his outstretched boot with her toe, causing his leg to wobble. "And halfway sturdy, when he's not drunk. You should do well."

Cloud blinked hard and shook his head. "Excuse me?"

Suddenly, the old lady brought her shriveled face within inches of his, her lips pursed tighter than a drawstring bag. "Listen here, little one," she said quietly. "You must be cautious. The dark-haired lady you travel with—she is not all that she seems."

Cloud's heart skipped a beat. How could this woman have known about his companion? Had she seen them together at the bar the night before?

"And neither are you," the woman continued. Cloud swallowed nervously as she circled around him, his body finally starting to feel the effects of the tranquilizer. "You bare a strange scar, do you not?"

He looked down at his arm, his sleeve still ripped from where the Hippogriff had slashed him. The marks were still red and angry.

The old lady smiled. "No, no," she said, "not that kind of scar." Cloud simply gave her a perplexed look, and she clicked her tongue impatiently. "So, you haven't felt it yet," she mumbled. "You're lucky. This is the kind of scar that does not heal."

Cloud stared up at the woman, deciding in that moment that she must be insane. "What are you saying?"

She stood up straighter at this, her wrinkled face growing severe. Suddenly, she let out a cackle like a clucking hen, and as if her laughter had cast a spell on him, Cloud felt his eyes grow heavy. "It doesn't matter much what I say," she croaked between laughs. "You would have discovered it eventually. I just thought I'd help it along."

As she spoke, Cloud's head slowly began to fall until his chin touched his chest. He groaned. His limbs felt useless, as if there were bricks tied to them. The woman's laughter became muffled in his ears, and soon he was no longer able to keep his eyes open. There was a sound like footsteps receding, and he struggled to lift his head. "What did you give me?" he pleaded, voice cracking. "Wait—what do you mean by …_'scar'_?"

Cloud wouldn't have heard it even if she had replied—soon, the sound of his own breaths consumed his ears, deep and ragged and labored.

...

It seemed no more than a moment later that he awoke to a cool hand patting his cheek, sending his eyes flying open to see Tifa standing above him. Her long hair was down, crimped from her braid, spilling over him like a weeping willow. Her lips were moving, but no words came out. When he didn't respond, she clapped him hard on the cheek again. As if electrocuted, he shot upright, his forehead colliding with her jaw.

"_Ow!_" she cried, reeling back and grasping her chin.

Panicking, Cloud stood and reached for her. "Tifa, I'm so sorry!" he hissed, touching her cheek with the pads of his fingers—but she brushed his hand away with a flourish. He stumbled back.

"Hurry up and get ready," she ordered, giving him a stern look. "It's already almost noon—the ship leaves in fifteen minutes."

The words hit him like a knife to the gut. He turned and looked out the window to see the sun hung in high in the sky. His eyes went wide, and in that moment, he suddenly realized there was not a trace of his hangover left.

"What?" he exclaimed. "But I just—I was just—"

Tifa suddenly threw his bag at his feet. "While I'm still young, please."

* * *

It was a dream, he decided.

It had to have been. There was no other explanation for how he could have been sprawled on the street passed out, and then suddenly back on the couch at the inn a moment later, with six hours of missing time in between. If he had been gone for that long, surely Tifa would have said something. Still, it seemed almost too vivid to be a dream—with the strange old woman and her cackling laugh, and the very real, very visceral feeling of the booze leaving his stomach. He also couldn't imagine how he'd awoken without a crushing hangover—he'd been known to get one even after drinking only a little. There were many things about the past twelve hours that remained a mystery—not the least of which had to do with Tifa.

Between his scramble to get ready and their ride down to the loading dock to board the cargo ship, Cloud had missed his chance to apologize to Tifa for whatever he'd done in his drunken stupor to make her cry. He felt as though bringing it up now, when she seemed to be actively avoiding him, might do more harm than good. On the ship, there was plenty of space for her to be alone and cool off. Hopefully by the time they reached Costa del Sol, she'd be ready to speak to him again.

To pass the time as the cargo ship slowly floated across the sea, Cloud went above deck and found himself a quiet spot to practice. He sparred only with his shadow, swinging his blade in long, full strokes. It felt good to work his muscles, tired as they were, but the practice did little to easy his guilt. If anything, it made him feel worse—picturing the Hippogriff in front of him, bringing it down in an easy crosswise slash before it could even think of cursing Tifa with the Confuse spell.

It seemed he'd done nothing but let her down since they'd left, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized his failures had been a much more frequent occurrence. They'd grown apart significantly in years past, to the point where they only ever spoke to one another about money, business, or Denzel. As he swung his blade furiously through the air, Cloud wondered how it had come to this—how they had drifted so far apart after clinging so close in the days, weeks, and months leading up to Meteor. He couldn't understand why he had always found himself miles away from her, when really all he ever wanted to do was be by her side.

Suddenly, Cloud's blind swing was met with a harsh resistance. He felt the steel vibrate all the way into his forearms and looked up to see the shaft of Cid's pike holding back his blade. Surprised, he let up on his grip, only to feel a sudden surge from the other end, and he had to dodge to avoid a sharp stab. Cloud swung down and parried a second stab, falling back into a defensive stance.

"Whassa matter," Cid began, tossing his pike from one hand to the other, "afraid you'll get beat by an old man?"

Slowly, Cloud broke a sly smile. "No. I'm afraid I'll bust you up so bad, even Shera won't love you anymore."

Cid barked a short, loud laugh, throwing his head back. "Gimme a break. You couldn't hit a cactuar if it were three feet in front'a ya!"

Spurned, Cloud lunged at his friend, swinging his sword in a long, horizontal slash. Cid stabbed his pike into the ground and stopped the blade mid-swing. He then grabbed onto the shaft and lifted his lower body off the ground, planting his feet on Cloud's chest and pushing off hard. Cloud stumbled back and hit the wall behind him. Cid spun back down and yanked his pike out of the ground, tucking it under his arm with a flourish. He thumbed his nose.

"You've lost your sparkle, golden boy!" Cid hollered.

With a low growl, Cloud popped free the serrated blade of his fusion sword, making a mad dash for Cid again. He led with the smaller sword in a stabbing motion, and when Cid inevitably moved to dodge it, Cloud spun around and slammed him in the back with the flat of his main blade. The old man stumbled forward and clutched his lower back, leaning on his staff for support. "Agh! You _asshole!_" he cried. "You know I have a bad back!"

"Did you really think I wouldn't exploit it?" Cloud said, a hint of SOLDIER-like arrogance in his voice.

With a sharp crack, Cid popped his back into place and stood up straight, spinning his staff menacingly in his hands. After exchanging sharp smirks, the pair lunged at each other again, meeting in a deadlock with a clash of sparks. Cloud swing his serrated blade up toward Cid's head, but the old man managed to lift the blunt end of his shaft to block the blow, leaving Cloud cross-armed and struggling to push back.

Suddenly, Cloud caught sight of movement at the edge of his vision. He turned his head, and in the moment it took him to realize it was Tifa, Cid had broken the hold and brought the blade of his pike down across Cloud's shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and fall to the ground. Cid, shocked, stooped beside his friend.

"You idiot!" he roared. "Why didn'tchya block?!"

Cloud, ignoring the small trail of blood dripping down his shoulder, pushed himself up to see Tifa gliding across the deck like a spirit, her long hair trailing in the wind. Though she was less than ten feet away, she seemed not to notice the pair of them, walking as though she'd just awoken from a deep sleep—or perhaps that she hadn't awoken at all.

"The hell's she doin'?" Cid muttered.

Cloud surged to his feet, leaving his swords splayed out on the ground. "Tifa," he called out, rushing to the staircase leading down to the outer edge of the ship. She continued walking as if she didn't hear him, her feet falling deliberately one after another, arms stone-still at her sides. She was making her way to the bow of the ship, her body slowly disappearing behind the curve of the captain's quarters. "Tifa!" Cloud called again, and when she ignored him a second time, panic set in.

Cloud jumped the railing and sailed down the rest of the stairs, coming upon Tifa just as she reached edge of the ship. She vaulted onto the barrier and turned her head slowly over her shoulder, her body balancing with inhuman precision on the narrow steel wall. Cloud's heart sank somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach as he looked into her eyes—they were as cold and glassy, glinting like mirrors in the setting sun.

Slowly, cautiously, he approached, reaching his hand out to her. "Tifa," he said softly. "Come away from there. You might fall."

Her body suddenly swayed in the wind, her heels rising deftly to steady her balance.

"Take my hand."

She lifted one foot.

"Tifa, _no_—"

Gone.

Faster than he could blink, Cloud found himself at the edge of the ship, and he threw himself off of it without a thought otherwise. He saw Tifa's body plunge into the dark, foaming depths, and a moment later, his hands broke the surface of the water, slicing through it like a sharpened blade. The salt stung his eyes, his body thrown about in the wake of the ship. Some unseen force drove him deeper, though his eyes saw nothing but blackness, arms and legs kicking as if it were his life in jeopardy. He reached—stretched his limbs deep into nothingness, feeling pressure building in his lungs and against his ears and eyes. Finally, he felt flesh beneath his fingers, and frantically, he latched on, nails digging into soft skin so deep he thought he might draw blood. He pulled up hard until the limp body was under his arms, turning his face up to the shimmering surface. He kicked and flailed, now fighting the current threatening to drag him into the depths, Tifa's limp body hanging on him like dead weight. Air. _Air._

The ship suddenly grew large in his peripheral vision, and the currents changed in an instant, dragging them toward the steel behemoth. Body weak, lungs threatening to collapse, he rode the wake until he was close enough to the surface to kick, but the current had brought them within inches of the rusted hull. With one final kick, his head finally broke the surface, lungs filling with a breath like being born again.

The second half of his breath was met with a mouthful of saltwater, and suddenly there was a sharp flow pulling on them, catching Tifa's limp form like a sail. Cloud struggled to hold onto her, his fingers slipping on her slick skin as the tide dragged her within inches of the ship's hull. With one strong kick, he drew her back into him, just in time to shield her from the impact with his own body, his back scraping along the sharp steel and rivets. He opened his mouth to cry out, but suddenly his head was back below the pulsing wake, his lungs filling with water. When he surged back up again, he hacked the salty brine through his nose and mouth, opening his stinging eyes to see a knotted rope floating a few feet away.

Up above, Cid was screaming and waving furiously, his crew members anchored to the other end of the rope. Cloud reached for it, but it was washed away by a sudden wave. He shifted his hold on Tifa and made another attempt, finally wrapping his arm around the thing through the mist and spray. The rope immediately snapped taut, and the crewman groaned with effort as they heaved Cloud and Tifa out of the water.

Cloud gritted his teeth as he struggled to hold on to both Tifa and the rope. The edge of the ship seemed miles away, and for a moment he wasn't sure if he could hold on—but he glanced down at Tifa, her dark hair twisted and matted against her forehead, and he reminded himself what was at stake.

What seemed like hours later, the sun broke on his face from over the edge of the ship, and suddenly Cid's hands were reaching down to pull Tifa up onto the deck. Cloud grasped the barrier as a pair of crewman latched onto his soaked shirt and yanked him over, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Cloud took not a moment to recover. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered around him and stumbled down beside Tifa, her body motionless, surrounded by a halo of seawater.

"No, no, _no_," he hissed. He turned her on his side and beat his palm into her back, watching as a stream of water leaked out of her half-agape mouth. When he turned her back over, she still wasn't breathing. He thought his own heart might have stopped just then.

"_No_, Tifa…" He leaned over her and placed the heel of his hand on her chest, pressing down in a heavy, steady rhythm. After several compressions, he released and swept in to place his lips against hers, exhaling deeply into her mouth. He stopped, listened for a breath, and leaned above her to start the process again. After ten hard compressions, her body spasmed, and clear liquid came pouring out of her throat. Cloud lifted her off the ground as she coughed and hacked, and soon she sucked in a huge breath, her eyes flying open. Cloud's heart dropped again at the sight of her glassy lenses staring up at him, but slowly, they faded back to their soft, familiar brown.

"Why did you do that, Tifa?" Cloud hissed, brushing her matted hair out of her eyes. "_Why?_"

Suddenly, she grasped the collar of his shirt, her eyes going even wider. She pulled herself up until she was inches from his face. "I saw Mama," she choked, her voice like breaking glass. "I saw Mama…on the other side of the mountain."


	8. Control

**AN: **Hey guys! Sorry for the long break between updates. I had a bit of a crazy weekend (try twelve hours in the car, over two days!). Very pleased to be bringing you a new chapter. I hope you are enjoying reading the slowly-thickening plot-I know i'm enjoying writing it! As always, please leave a review if you are. There's nothing I appreciate more than someone taking the time out of their day to let me know what they think of my story. A writer's deepest honor! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

She was walking—footsteps shallow, head turned to the ground. She was wearing bright green sandals, several sizes too big. They slipped off her heels every time she lifted her feet, forming blisters on soft, young skin. Her eyes were clouded with tears.

The Nibel Mountains were especially gray, rock and gravel wet from a recent storm. She stumbled up steep slopes, ignoring the pain in her feet. Like an angry fist thrust into the sky, Mount Nibel rose in the distance. She knew Mama would be waiting on the other side.

When she reached the swaying rope bridge, she stopped for the first time and looked back. There, she saw Sampson and Curtis, her best friends, standing not far behind. They had terrified looks in their eyes.

"Tifa, don't go up there!" Sampson called. "It's really dangerous!"

"I want to see Mama," she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Your mom is gone, Tifa," Curtis urged. "You won't find her up there."

She turned defiantly back toward the mountain, shaking tears loose from her cheeks. With hurried, careless steps, she scaled the swaying bridge, each board groaning beneath her feet…

…And suddenly, she was back in the darkened inn, the sound of the pulsing surf spilling in through the open window on the other side of the room. There was a deep chill in her bones, though she was wrapped in several blankets. Her hair was still wet.

Cloud was standing above her, staring intently at her. "Start from the beginning," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. "What happened?"

Tifa shifted uneasily. "I told you," she said. "One minute I was in the cabin lying in one of the bunks, and the next I was coughing up water on the deck."

Cloud continued staring, and Tifa suddenly felt as though she were being interrogated. "I meant in your dream."

Tifa lowered her head, her heart thumping loudly up into her throat. "It was no dream." She said softly. "It was unlike anything I've ever felt before. It wasn't just a memory being called up—I was there, Cloud. I was me, eight years old, climbing up Mount Nibel the day Mom died. I could see everything—_feel_ everything. It was like I was starting my life over from that point, and everything after it had been erased."

She saw parts of him grow tense as she spoke—the subtle flex of his temple as he clenched his jaw, the sinew in his neck shifting beneath stretched skin. Though she was left deeply disturbed by the trauma she'd experienced that day, she was almost more concerned that she was worrying Cloud with her troubles. She was terrified of being a burden for him—another weight to add to his already heavy shoulders. He'd been forced to come to her rescue three times now since their departure from Edge. What had happened to the fearless woman she'd once been? She could feel that life slipping through her fingers like water, leaving her weak, anxious and utterly afraid.

Cloud exhaled deeply and stood, moving toward the window looking out over the moonlit beaches of Costa del Sol. "These visions," he began, not looking at her. "They have to have something to do with what's going on in Nibelheim."

Tifa's skin tingled. "How?"

Cloud gripped tightly to the windowsill, casting his eyes to the ground. "I don't know," he said. "I just have a feeling. Something strange is happening. It can't be a coincidence—you keep seeing Nibelheim, and that just happens to be exactly where we're headed."

"What are we supposed to do? Turn back?" But to Tifa, it wasn't a question. She'd turned back in her mind long ago.

Cloud pushed himself up and turned around, slowly moving toward her in the dark. He stopped no more than an arm's length away, tired eyes gazing down at her like ripples on still water. "We'll go to Cosmo Canyon," he declared. "Nanaki and the elders may be able to help us."

He was right—the elders of Cosmo Canyon would know best how to handle the situation, but Tifa suddenly found herself doubting if she could even make it that far. The canyon sat in the shadows of the Nibel Mountains, and if what Cloud said was true, there would be much more than just ghost stories and grisly rumors waiting on the other side.

Cloud turned away again, and like a reflex, her hand shot out to grasp his wrist. His forearm tensed, and he turned back to her.

"What if it happens again?" Her voice was no longer steady. "What if I don't come out of it this time?"

All softness suddenly fell from his eyes, and as if his skin were made of fire, she released him.

"What if we both walk outside tomorrow and are struck by lightning?" he shot, voice loud and sharp. "What if we don't come back from the next battle we fight? Huh?"

Tifa lowered her head.

"Every moment of every day is a 'what if.' You know that just as well as I do." He stopped, but Tifa left her eyes locked on the ground. She felt a shiver—one that had nothing to do with being cold. "You're not irrational, Tifa. So stop acting like it. Sometimes things happen that you can't explain. It sucks. But if you keep thinking about it, you'll just go insane." He paused. "Don't give up control of your own mind."

Tifa looked back up at him at this, his body silver-lined and stiff. Cloud was not good with words. He never had been. But she felt something in them this time—something she knew only Cloud could make her feel.

He turned his back on her, and this time she resisted the urge to reach for him. "Get some sleep," he said, crossing the room to where his sword leaned peacefully against the wall. "If you're really that afraid… I'll watch over you tonight."

"What about you?"

He made a soft noise, lifting the hulking blade with ease. "I'll take a hyper in the morning."

With an unexpected smile, Tifa tucked herself deeper into bed and pulled the blankets up beneath her chin. She followed Cloud with her eyes as he moved toward her again, his fusion sword catching the harsh glint of silver moonlight. He leaned his back against the wall beside the bed and slid down it, resting the hilt of the blade against his shoulder, both hands locked tightly around it. He was ready.

For what, Tifa wasn't sure.

* * *

Desert.

As far as the eye could see.

It was often the most grueling part of the journey across the Western Continent, and easily the most dangerous. Only the heartiest creatures could survive in such a desolate place, and Cloud always seemed to attract the attention of every single one of them within a mile's earshot of Fenrir. Thankfully, he and Tifa had gotten an early start this time, and they'd crossed over half the sweltering stretch of sand and dust by the time the sun had fully risen.

Before they'd left, Tifa had requested Cloud cast a Sleepel spell on her to keep her sedated for the duration of the ride. He had been hesitant to incapacitate her in such a way, but he had sensed a tangible fear in her—a fear of what she might do if her mind was left to her own devices. Reluctantly, he'd granted her wish.

It was a challenge in itself to ride with her asleep between his arms, sitting side seat with her head leaned against his shoulder guard. Every time he slowed or turned sharply, he had to lift one of his arms and clutch her closer to him to keep her from falling off. But challenge or not, Cloud would have gladly carried Tifa on his back all the way across the desert if it meant she would feel safe—if even from herself.

As he powered across the badlands with Tifa in his arms, Cloud thought that perhaps he'd been a bit hard on her the night before. But then he remembered where the words had come from—a place of his own fear that he might somehow lose Tifa to these visions, as he had lost himself eight years ago. He would do what he must to keep her grounded until they found a reasonable explanation for it all, even if it meant raising his voice to her.

Cloud suddenly guided Fenrir up the side of a steep mesa, slowing the bike to a stop as he reached the peak. In the valley below, a glowing golden spire shot up through the hazy sky—the Gold Saucer. Scattered in its shadow lay Corel Prison, which he would have liked to avoid. Unfortunately for him, the usually bone-dry river that ran alongside it was rushing strong from the monsoon season, and Cloud now found himself trapped on the wrong side of it. With a sigh, he headed back down the side of the mesa, carefully following the edge of the muddy brown river.

Less than half a mile in the distance lay the huge, fanned-out shadow where the Gold Saucer had blocked out the sun. He sped toward it, hoping the shade would provide a brief respite from the unforgiving heat. When he got closer, he spied some scrub brush along the bank of the river and dipped gradually to avoid it, glancing down to make sure Tifa was secure. When he looked back up, it appeared as though the bush had moved back into his path, and it suddenly occurred to him that it wasn't a bush at all.

Cloud heaved the huge bike out of the way just as a Death Claw burst out of the ground, its pincers snapping wildly. He felt Tifa slipping from his grasp and reached his arm up just in time to save her, but at the cost of throwing Fenrir into a deep sideways skid. Soon, the bike was completely horizontal, and Cloud was forced to let go of the handlebar in order to keep from being pinned beneath the hulking machine. He clutched tightly to Tifa as he rolled across the sandy desert floor, Fenrir skidding to a stop a few feet away.

Coughing dust from his lungs, Cloud rose to his knees just in time to hear the Death Claw galloping toward him. He scooped Tifa up into his arms and raced to where Fenrir lay upturned, and kicked the machine back onto its side. He placed Tifa in its shadow before popping open the top compartment, drawing out the two smallest sections of his fusion sword. He cursed, realizing the base was still trapped in the other compartment.

By the time he looked up, the Death Claw was already within striking distance. With no time left to retrieve his other swords, Cloud leapt up onto Fenrir and pushed off, meeting the creature head-on in a reverberating clash. The Death Claw blocked his slash with one side of its clicking pincers and countered with the other in a sharp stabbing motion. Cloud spun out of the way and used his momentum to swing his short blades into the creature's deformed head. The force sent the Death Claw skidding across the ground, but it arose mere seconds later, bleeding and enraged.

Cloud instinctively took a defensive stance, but when the creature made movement again, it did not come for him. Instead, it made a mad dash for Fenrir, sprinting toward it as if possessed by something. It suddenly hit Cloud like a brick wall—it was heading not for his bike, but for Tifa still sleeping peacefully behind it.

Instinctively, Cloud sailed across the ground and intercepted the Death Claw just feet away from the bike, swords crossed and quivering as he absorbed the creature's crushing momentum. It, too, had crossed its sharp claws in front of its body, protecting itself from Cloud's attack. They stood in a deadlock for several moments, each trying to subdue the other. Finally, the Death Claw uncrossed its pincers with a huge burst of energy, sending Cloud stumbling back. He looked up just in time to see a flash of red light, and there was suddenly a sharp pain in his chest as if he'd been hit with a sledgehammer. The impact forced his body airborne, knocking him into the front wheel of Fenrir. The machine absorbed the impact and pivoted, exposing Tifa's limp form beneath it.

Cloud rose to his knees gasping for breath, his lungs paralyzed by the Death Claw's Laser ability. Through blurred and dust-filled eyes, he saw the creature rise above Tifa, its pincers coiled back for a deadly blow. Without thinking, Cloud reached over the bike to shield her with the flat of his blade. A moment later, pain surged through his arm and he dropped the sword, hearing it clatter to the ground beside Tifa. When he raised his eyes, he was met with the sight of blood trickling down the quivering limb, his forearm impaled on the creature's crooked claw.

Hot breath hissed out from between his clenched teeth, and adrenaline surged through his body like electricity. His free hand shot out and latched onto the claw, fist closing around it in an iron grip. The creature coiled back its other pincers as if to strike again, but Cloud suddenly wrenched hard on the one he held, snapping the claw in two. He continued pulling after his arm was freed, bringing the Death Claw in close enough to grab its body with both hands. With inhuman, adrenaline-fueled strength, Cloud lifted the squirming creature above his head and heaved it several yards away. He then vaulted over Fenrir and took up his discarded sword, brandishing it in blood-soaked hands.

By the time the Death Claw rose to its feet again, Cloud was already airborne. He brought his blade down with an ear-piercing clash, and like a knife through fresh meat, the creature was cleaved in two.

Cloud released a low grunt of approval as he yanked his blade free from the twitching carcass, but slowly, the adrenaline dissolved into his bloodstream and left him with a searing pain in his forearm. He sheathed his blade and grasped the protruding claw. With a deep, ragged breath, he closed his eyes and pulled hard, stifling a sharp cry with his teeth on his tongue. Blood poured out of the gaping wound, tissue closing around his bones again, and he covered it desperately with his free hand as he stumbled back toward Fenrir. Once there, he fell to his knees beside Tifa and rummaged through his bag that lay nearby. He pulled out a fresh roll of bandages and hastily wrapped the seething wound, cutting the excess with his teeth.

Beside him, Tifa made a small noise, and her body shifted where she lay. Cloud suddenly forgot about his pain and rushed to her, drawing her stirring body up against Fenrir. Her heavy eyes parted ever so slightly, and she braced herself on his shoulder.

"Cloud?" she whispered, blinking listlessly up at him. "Is that you?"

Cloud squeezed her arm. "I'm here."

With a soft sigh, she leaned her head back against the bike. "I had the strangest dream," she mumbled, closing her eyes again. Cloud tightened his grip on her.

"Another memory?"

She was silent for a moment, then suddenly shook her head, her eyes parting again. "I wasn't _me _this time," she said. "I was…someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't know," Tifa replied slowly. "Someone old… Someone…_ancient_."

"Ancient?"

Tifa's eyes fluttered all the way open and fell down to the arm that held her. She reached out and touched the blood-soaked bandage, concern blooming in on her tired features. "You're hurt," she said simply.

Cloud turned his arm over. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a sharp ringing sound. He spun back around to where his bag lay, his phone blaring loudly in the front pocket. Without releasing Tifa, he retrieved it and flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Cloud, it's Vincent." For some reason, Cloud was not relieved to hear the familiar voice. "Where are you?"

Cloud released his hold on Tifa and rose up, turning out to face the wind-swept badlands. "I'm at the edge of the Corel Desert," he replied.

"So it's true," Vincent said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You _are_ heading to Nibelheim."

Cloud scoffed. "Word travels fast."

Vincent made a low noise that could have been a laugh, but it crackled through the receiver. "Cloud," he said, more serious now. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come to Gongaga before you continue on."

"Why?" Cloud asked, turning back to Tifa now dozing peacefully on the ground.

"There's something here you need to see."

Cloud grew concerned as Vincent spoke. "What is it?"

"It's best if you come see for yourself," Vincent replied quickly. "Please hurry, if you can."

The line went dead shortly after, and Cloud looked down to see Tifa sitting up straight now.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Vincent," Cloud replied, kneeling down next to her. "He wants us to come to Gongaga. Do you think you're alright to travel again?"

Tifa heaved a deep sigh before nodding once. She then drew her legs up and struggled to her feet, Cloud dipping down to help her. Together, they heaved Fenrir upright and resituated their belongings. Cloud helped Tifa onto the back seat of the bike before mounting up himself, starting the ignition with a loud roar. When he felt Tifa's arms close around his waist, he slammed the throttle back, speeding out of the desert in a cloud of dust and sand.


	9. Plagued

**AN: **Hi everyone! First off, let me apologize for a crappy preface this time around. It's late here and I've been working on this chapter since I got home from work, so I really just need to post it and let the writing speak for itself! Gah! Anyway, thank you all, as always, for reading, following, and reviewing. Please keep them all coming. I really appreciate your feedback.

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Tifa surged awake at the feel of something cold splashing her face. When she opened her eyes, she saw the wheels of Fenrir kicking up water as Cloud powered through the shallows of a wide river. She had dozed off several times since their departure from the desert, still feeling the effects of Cloud's Sleepel spell. She refused to tell him, however, fearing he might stop again just for her sake. She gripped tightly to his sides as he guided the bike up the muddy riverbank, where large, flat-topped hills slowly rose in the distance. Gongaga would be nestled somewhere between them.

Several drowsy miles later, Tifa though the Sleepel spell might finally have worn off, just in time for her nose to be bombarded with a horrific, noxious stench. She felt Cloud let up on the throttle, and she looked up to see a strange, dark haze surrounding them.

"What's that smell?" she choked to Cloud.

"I don't know," he said, zipping the collar of his jacket all the way up. "Cover your mouth."

She obeyed him, burying her nose into his shoulder. Her eyes stung as she struggled to survey her surroundings, the stench becoming almost tactile in the air. A forest slowly rose up around them, but every tree appeared to be either dead or dying, twisted bark and limbs decaying like human flesh.

Cloud suddenly dropped his speed to a crawl, and a moment later, the bike lurched up as if it had hit a large root or tree branch, but when Tifa looked behind her, she saw what appeared to be the carcass of a dead, diseased monster. Her skin crawled at the sight—its body looked as though it had just been dredged up from a shallow grave, half-decomposed and yet no more than a day past death. Something evil had passed through here.

When Tifa looked back toward the horizon, she was met with the sight of harsh, twisted metal reaching high into the sky just beyond the treeline of the dying forest. Gongaga's reactor still had not been tended to by the WRO—the tiny town's many needs had been pushed back behind the more populated areas of the Planet. Though her memories of those towns were now all but lost on her, Gongaga, and all its grisly history, still remained a vivid picture in Tifa's mind.

Cloud hurried through the decaying woods, and Tifa was relieved to see no more dead creatures on their way to the town center. They did pass, however, the cemetery for those lives lost in the reactor's meltdown, now tucked behind tangled overgrowth, the graves left untended and bare. The Planet, it seemed, had reclaimed them.

Fenrir suddenly slowed to a stop, and Tifa peeked her head over Cloud's shoulder to see Vincent emerging from one of the huts on the edge of town. His cloaked was wrapped tightly around his mouth.

"Cloud—Tifa," he said, approaching them slowly. "Thank you for coming."

"What happened here?" Cloud asked, cutting through the formalities.

Vincent looked grave. "I was hoping you could help me figure that out," he said. "Come. There is more to see."

Cloud and Tifa dismounted Fenrir and followed their red-cloaked friend through the forest path leading to the ruined reactor. Though Tifa had her hand clamped tightly over her mouth, the stench of decaying organic matter still made its way into her lungs, drawing out weak coughs in an attempt to expel the stuff. She closed her eyes tightly to the horrible sights, following the pair only by sound.

It grew suddenly quiet, and a moment later, Tifa bumped into Cloud's back where he stood stone-still at the edge of the path. She looked up to see an expression of pure awe on his features, and, reluctantly, she turned her head to look out over the dead plains surrounding the ruined reactor.

All the air left her lungs in a sudden rush. Her muscles grew rigid and her skin tingled, every hair suddenly standing on end.

Scattered around the reactor were dozens of dead monsters—creatures as small as Spencers, to those as large as Heavy Tanks—their carcasses littering the ragged plains like discarded children's toys. Their bodies seemed to be rotting off their skeletons, flesh baking and melting in the high noon sun. They lay crooked and twisted, each with expressions of pure agony, as if they'd been frozen in the most painful moment of death.

"The WRO team working on the reactor found them like this yesterday morning," Vincent explained. "It appeared to have happened overnight. In the beginning, it was only infecting monsters. It has since spread to the trees and foliage as well."

"It sounds like what Zangan said was happening in Nibelheim." Cloud shifted uneasily. "But what is it?"

"It appears to be some sort of viral infection," Vincent explained. "It destroys organic matter at an extremely accelerated rate."

"How is it transmitted?" Cloud asked. "Water? Air? Physical contact?"

Vincent shook his head. "There's no way to know for sure. No one has witnessed active transmittal yet. The virus kills too fast. However, given the isolated locations, I would think the reactors would have something to do with it."

Tifa suddenly brushed through the pair, her hand slowly falling away from her mouth. Her eyes were wide, pupils growing small as she scanned the desolated horizon.

"Tifa," Cloud called, the urge instinctive.

"I've been here before," she whispered, stepping over a dead Kimara Bug. "I was here once. In my dream. Everything was the same, but it wasn't."

Vincent turned his stony gaze to Cloud, who returned it with a concerned look.

"What are you—?"

"I knew I'd seen it before," she continued, stooping down beside the carcass of a Flapbeat. "The reactor wasn't here. Nothing was. Just the forest and the plains."

She reached out to touch the rotted wings of the creature before her, and Cloud suddenly swept in to grab her arm, pulling her back up to her feet. "Don't touch it."

She looked up at him, and he caught sight of her eyes growing glassy again. She blinked it away. "This has happened before."

Cloud gazed down at her, shaking his head slowly. "How can you know that?" he hissed. "This reactor was built over thirty years ago."

"The vision I saw was much older than that," Tifa replied, slipping her arm out of his grasp.

Vincent stepped forward. "Do you see these visions often?"

Tifa turned her back on both of them, staring down at the rotting cadaver at her feet. "It only started when we left Edge."

Vincent made a low, contemplative noise. "Be careful, Tifa," he cautioned. "It seems as though your spirit is playing host to some strange magic."

Cloud spun on his friend at this, donning a concerned look. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I can't say for sure. Not without feeling it myself." His words felt pained somehow. Cloud and Tifa remained silent. "Nanaki and the elders will know better," Vincent declared at last. "Go to them. I'll remain her and investigate further. Call me if they are of any help to you."

Cloud steeled himself, shaking off the fear and uncertainty that had crept into his features. "We will," he said, moving toward the decaying forest. "Come on, Tifa." When she didn't reply, he turned back to see her still staring reverently at the pitiful creature by her feet. "Tifa," he said, louder this time.

She inhaled deeply and stood up straighter, turning around to face him. For a moment, Cloud didn't recognize her. Instead, he saw the face of a stranger looking up at him, eyes wide like a child's, and yet filled with a lifetime worth of pain. Slowly, he reached out his hand to her. She looked at it with glazed eyes, tilting her head to one side, then the other. Urgently, he stretched out his fingers.

At last, she slipped her palm into his, and like a current of life flowing back into her, she looked up with brown eyes clear and shining.

* * *

Cloud heard Cosmo Canyon before he saw it. The deep drums rolled through the red rock canyon like thunder, calling out to whoever might be listening in the warm, twilight hours. He followed them eagerly, and soon he saw a pillar of fire rising above the ridge not far in the distance. He felt Tifa cling to him when she laid eyes on it as well. They were both anxious, their frenetic minds searching for any reasonable explanation for the sinister happenings they'd witnessed that day. Every time he blinked, Cloud caught a glimpse of Tifa's eyes burned into the back of his mind—black mirrors showing not an ounce of her spirit behind them. He knew he was losing her—but to what, he still wasn't sure. He only hoped he would find the answer waiting for him at the top of the cliff.

Cloud slammed back the throttle and powered up the ridge toward the huts and houses carved into the cliff face. Soon, they arrived at the winding stone staircase leading up to the bonfire that was raging at the top, and Cloud stopped and parked at the bottom. When Tifa dismounted, she took up their bags while Cloud retrieved his sword from the front compartment. He sheathed it before turning to head up the stairs behind Tifa. The music grew louder with every step they took, accompanied by mystic chants and wild singing.

When they came upon the pyre burning brightly at the center of the city, both Cloud and Tifa stopped and stared in awe. The townspeople sang and danced like creatures possessed, throwing their hands up to the sky as if to summon Bahamut himself. They were chanting in an ancient, unrecognizable language, but Cloud could almost _feel_ the sentiments in the strained words, and somehow, it comforted him.

Suddenly, a red flash surged into the sky, blocking out the rising moon with its lithe figure. A deep, urgent howl filled the air and echoed off the canyon walls in a lamenting reprisal. Nanaki dropped back down to the ground, his red fur sparking like the burning embers before him.

The townspeople grew suddenly quiet, and Nanaki filled the silence with another melodic howl that seemed to sing through every outcrop and arch on the ridge. After a reverent pause, the powwow erupted in wild cheers and applause, all patting and praising Nanaki's performance. He panted happily at the attention, slowly turning to face Cloud and Tifa where they stood at the edge of the celebration. His eyes lit up upon seeing the pair, and he raced through the crowd to meet them. "Tifa!" he cried. "Cloud!"

Tifa smiled and knelt down as he approached, opening her arms to embrace him. Nanaki nuzzled her head affectionately, purring like a huge kitten.

"I'm glad you made it safely," he said, sitting back on his hind legs. He looked to Tifa, then to Cloud, then back to Tifa, and a concerned look broke on his features. "Something troubles you," he said softly. Tifa rose up and glanced at Cloud. He cleared his throat. Nanaki stood and swished his tail idly. "I see," he said. "Come. Our conversation is better suited to Grandfather's study." He turned and head back through the crowd, the townspeople still cheering and dancing jubilantly.

"You must excuse our raucous behavior," Nanaki said as he led the pair of them up through the dwellings carved into the cliff face. "Even in these dark times, it is customary to celebrate the alignment of the planets for the autumnal equinox. It is said to bring good luck and a plentiful harvest. The celebration has been handed down in this Canyon for generations." The sounds of the ceremony faded slowly as they walked, and when they reached the staircase leading to Bugenhagen's study, Nanaki turned to his friends. "An inn room has been prepared for you," he explained. "You may leave your belongings here. The apprentices will bring them down for you."

Cloud and Tifa laid their things down and followed the red beast up the winding staircase. "So, Nanaki," Cloud began, "tell us what you know."

"When word reached the Canyon of the grisly happenings in the Nibel Mountains, I had Elder Hargo search through the ancient scrolls kept by the Haka tribe that once lived in its foothills, thousands of years ago." Nanaki nudged open the door that stood at the top of the stone steps. "He was able to compile the stories using Grandfather's apparatus. While the results were very enlightening, I'm afraid they were also…quite grave."

Cloud took a deep breath after Nanaki was finished speaking. The beast's voice had grown suddenly nervous, and Nanaki was not easily rattled. The red wolf turned and led the way into Bugenhagen's planetarium, a place Cloud had not visited in over three years. Even in that time, nothing had changed. It was almost as if the old man were still alive—still tending to his machines and books and scrolls.

Once Cloud and Tifa stepped onto the center platform, Nanaki flipped the lever to activate the machine's lift mechanism. The lights dimmed to black as the platform rose up, and moments later, a curved grid rose up overhead, bringing with it a black sky filled with billions of tiny, flickering lights. Red glows shone on their faces as a bright sun pulsed into life in the northeast corner of the artificial sky. Slowly, the other planets materialized in its light, orbiting the yellow sphere in large, sweeping circles. Nanaki placed his forepaws on the guardrail and peered closely at a small, blue-and-green covered sphere, his black eyes shining proudly.

"Long ago," he began, his voice filling the empty void like a song, "the Haka tribe spoke of a time of great peace. It was said they settled in a beautiful valley filled with plentiful food and water, shaded from the sun by great mountains like the hands of the gods." Suddenly, the planet grew large overhead, circling slower and slower until it stopped on a view of a luscious valley filled with flora and fauna, surrounded on three sides by sharp, white-capped mountains. "They believed it was this valley from which all life had once sprung.

"However, one day, three great plagues truck the Planet: the plague of Darkness, the plague of Deception, and the plague of Pestilence." As Nanaki spoke, the sky above the sphere grew black as night, and the valley shriveled into an unrecognizable wasteland. "The world was thrust into a never-ending night, and their plentiful valley was all but destroyed. The people were haunted by evil illusions and poisoned by the land they had once loved."

Cloud glanced at Tifa, whose eyes grew wide as she watched the virtual landscape deteriorating in mere seconds.

"The Haka looked to their beloved Priestess for guidance. It was said she was immune to the plague of Pestilence—the evil magic no match for her strength and purity. She called on their ancient cousins, the Cetra, for help." Cloud took a deep breath at the mention of the familiar name. Shortly thereafter, a star shone in the dark sky above the valley—a light he knew as well as his own heartbeat. "The Haka tribe praised the day when the Cetra finally arrived—but they were war-torn and ragged from their own battle with the plagues, and at first, they refused to help the Haka, saying their lands were too far gone to save. But their Priestess insisted. She elected to sacrifice herself so that the Cetra might have the power to eliminate the plagues once and for all.

"The Cetra agreed to this plan and bestowed upon the Priestess an ancient magic that would allow her to lock the plague of Pestilence away forever—but at a very great cost. Instead of returning to the Lifestream, the Priestess's spirit remained in limbo, acting as a living prison to seal away the evil plague." The Ancient light suddenly pulsed bright enough to blind them. Cloud covered his eyes, and when it faded away, the valley was filled with green and sun and warmth again. "Because of the Priestess's sacrifice, the Cetra were able to successfully eradicate the other two plagues, bringing peace and harmony back to the Planet. The Haka immortalized their Priestess with a shrine built into their beloved mountains, where it is said she still guards the valley to this day."

The blue-green sphere slowly returned to its gentle rotation, rejoining the other planets in orbit around the sun. Cloud and Tifa stood silent as they watched it receding across the artificial galaxy, billions of stars reflected in their eyes. Finally, Cloud turned to Nanaki, who was now sitting patiently on his haunches, fiery tail like an orange beacon in the dark.

"That's not all there is to the story...is there?"

Nanaki lowered his head, his headdress tinkling. "I have watched this demonstration dozens of times hoping to be wrong," he said. "But if you feel it too, Cloud… Then it must be so."

"The other two plagues," Tifa whispered. "Darkness…and Deception."

"Familiar, aren't they?" Nanaki mused. "Together with the plague of Pestilence, they became known by the Cetra as the Calamity from the Skies—Jenova." The name felt tainted somehow—no voice could ever speak it purely.

"It can't be," Cloud's voice broke the air like a gunshot. "If Pestilence was caused by Jenova, why didn't it return when Sephiroth rose to power?"

"The Priestess," Nanaki said simply. "Her sacrifice kept that plague at bay."

"Then why is it returning now?"

The red wolf rose to all fours, his tail flicking nervously. "There are many things still unknown about this story," he said. "This was all the elders could find in the vaults. I am sorry I cannot be of any more help."

Cloud's heartbeat quickened with sudden doubt, his skin crawling and nerves tingling. He was about to open his mouth to protest when suddenly the lights flew up, and the platform began a slow descent back to ground level. He turned to see Tifa jump down off the edge of it while still in motion, her rigid form heading for the door.

"Tifa—"

"I don't want to hear any more." Her voice was cold and unfamiliar—lost. But before Cloud had a chance to utter another word, the door was thrown open and slammed closed behind her.

Nanaki moved to sit beside Cloud, gazing uneasily at the door. Cloud exhaled long and slow. "She's been having visions," he said quietly. "Reliving memories—some not her own."

Nanaki made a beastly noise, like a low growl. "Then it is as I have feared," he said. "The Calamity has returned."

Cloud would not look at his friend. For the first time in years, he was truly afraid. "But how?" he whispered at last. "Why Tifa?"

"You know I cannot give you those answers," Nanaki said. "She must seek them out herself.

Cloud suddenly found himself wishing he were back under the star-lit sky—if even just the artificial one that had bloomed like an infinite flower above their heads mere minutes before. He wanted his eyes to fill with the stars' boundless light, wanted to watch them grow dark at the edge of his vision. He wanted to feel small again. He knew that Tifa was just as afraid as he was. He felt her fear as if it were his own, because he knew—he knew what it was like to be chosen by the Planet.

* * *

For a moment, Cloud thought she might be an illusion.

She was standing at the window with her back turned, outlined by a halo of moonlight. Her body was still as stone. He couldn't tell whether she was gazing into the canyon, or simply staring at her own reflection, trying to find the flaw in her spirit through which the darkness had entered her. She didn't blink, not even when Cloud drew closer to her, and he worried that he might have lost her again. But when he came within arm's reach, finally, her eyes moved to look at him in the reflection of the clouded glass—warm and brown and full of worry.

His lips parted, but no words came to him. He could think of nothing that would ease her fears. They had both been here before, suspended in an endless moment of uncertainty with only each other to cling to. But that memory seemed centuries old now, and it felt as though Tifa were miles away from him, even though he was close enough to smell her sweet scent and feel the warmth of her body.

It simply wasn't enough.

Cloud dropped his eyes from hers before lifting his hand and inching it toward her waist, gently pushing his gloved fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. For the first time since he had entered the room, she took a deep, full breath. When he looked back up, her eyes were turned away. Slowly, he slipped his hand further around her middle, dipping his thumb into the concave arc of her hipbone. He stepped closer and touched his chest against her back, and she drew in another deep breath—one he could actually feel. He lifted his hand from the heat of her body and drew them together in front of her, pulling his gloves off carefully, one finger at a time. When his hands were freed, he let them fall back to whatever skin he could find, fingertips drawing sweeping shapes on her body.

He pulled her even closer, and she turned her head away, her breaths now uneven and unpredictable. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his left hand and reached across to her shoulder, drawing the thick locks of her hair away from her neck. After a long, motionless pause, he finally let his lips fall to the exposed flesh, feathering it with a soft kiss that summoned a deep shiver through her body. Like a reflex, she dropped her shoulder out of his reach, half-turning away from him—but he wouldn't let her go. Not this time. He moved his head beside her ear.

"Don't push me away."

The timbre of his voice pulsed against her skin like the flutter of a bird's wings. She shivered and turned again, this time to face him. Her troubled eyes lifted up, searching his face as if the answers to all the world's questions lie within it.

He clutched her waist. "I'm still here."

A pained expression spread across her beautiful features, and he thought she might try to flee again. But suddenly, she fell against him, lips colliding with his, hand desperately grabbing a fistful of his shirt. He was surprised at first, but after a moment, he welcomed it, pulling his lips back to feel more of her own. He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks, threading his fingers into the fringes of her hair, softer than a Phoenix Down. He held her and kissed her as if his breaths might replace the tiny pieces of her spirit that were slowly slipping away. He would gladly give every ounce of his soul and leave his body a hollow husk if it meant she might have the will to live another day. He wanted, more than anything, to be her shield, her sword, and her armor. He wanted to live for her.


	10. Pretend

**AN: **Phew! First of all, let me apologize for the long wait for this chapter. For some reason, it was really hard to write. It didn't _flow_ out of me like the other ones have been. I'm still not 100% happy with the ending, but I suppose you guys will tell me if it's crap, right? ;) Anyway, I hope I haven't lost your interest with the long break, and I'm trying to keep the updates quick, but no promises. Work has been crazy lately, so sadly I can't get away with scribbling out half a chapter on company time! ;) Regardless, I hope you enjoy this belated chapter. Please review if you do—I always appreciate your thoughts and feedback.

P.S. Some of you may have already found it, but I've written an M-rated chapter that goes between this one and Chapter 9. You can find it on my profile under Black Mirror: Encounters. It's not necessary to read it, but some of you might appreciate the shameless smut ;)

Thanks for reading!

* * *

Cloud awoke to the sound of beating drums, the feel of a warm body, and the scent of fragrant hair. When he opened his heavy eyes and looked down, an uncontrollable smile broke across his features at the sight of Tifa's sleeping face resting on his chest. She looked as content as he'd ever seen her, her eyelids still fluttering in the midst of a dream. With a deep sigh, he lolled his head toward the window to see the sun washing over the canyon below. He suddenly wished for a Time spell powerful enough to stop the very rotation of the Planet, so that he might stay like this forever.

Cloud couldn't remember ever feeling such an urge, always resigned to the fate filled with danger and responsibility that had been thrust upon him eight years before. But lying here with Tifa, remembering the passions of the night before, and looking forward to the sweet affections that were sure to come—they made him reconsider everything. He would gladly leave behind all the pain and fighting, happily forfeit the burdens that life so often demanded of him, if it meant he could wake up every day to a moment like this.

Still, Cloud knew such a life could not begin until he had fulfilled the demands of this one, and that meant Nibelheim could not be ignored. He would have to continue his duties as shield, sword, and armor, at least until he could pull Tifa back from the brink and right her world.

As if she had felt his musings in the depths of sleep, Tifa stirred softly against him, and her lashes flickered open like scattering black butterflies. Though her eyes were dazed with sleep, Cloud was relieved to find them clear and shining, just as they had been the night before. He smiled down at her as she shifted to rest her chin on his shoulder, and he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Tifa didn't return the smile, but she soon began a slow crawl up to graze her lips against his own. After a brief pause and a deep breath, he accepted the kiss with grateful passion, resting his palm against her warm cheek. Suddenly, her body shifted beneath the sheets, and her leg found its way over his hips. Cloud closed his eyes as she slowly rose above him, remembering with great fondness the events that had led to this intimate moment. He melted into her, his mind unwillingly purging of the urgency he had felt only moments before. As she kissed him, she leaned down on her forearms and threaded her fingers into his hair, trapping him in a warm embrace. In a dazed attempt to respond to her passion, Cloud pushed his hands beneath the sheets and slipped them up around her waist.

Suddenly, he froze.

He felt not her warm flesh, but something cold beneath his fingers, unfamiliar and almost inhuman. His eyes flew open, but were instantly blinded by a red light brighter than a dying star. He wrenched his lips away and shielded his eyes from the blinding flare.

The sight sent his blood running cold.

Blue lips curled into the faintest smile, stretching greyish flesh over sharp cheeks slithered with pulsing purple veins. Silver hair framed the false features, tresses pressed beneath an iron helm hiding the remnants of crawling, throbbing grey matter—alive, but dead. The smiling face lowered back down, and a purple tongue lashed across its cold lips, sending a shock through his paralyzed limbs—

Cloud suddenly surged upright, drenched in cold sweat and heaving deep breaths. As he scanned the room frantically, he swore he could still feel the weight on his chest and see the red glow before his eyes, his mind unconvinced that it been nothing but a dream. Logic and reason crept back into him, and his first rational thought turned immediately to Tifa. He spun his head to the side, but saw only twisted sheets lying beside him. He threw them back before scanning the room again, only now noticing that all of Tifa's belongings were gone. He spat a curse before leaping out of bed and into his clothes. His phone fell out of his pocket as he pulled on his pants, its screen lighting up with the time: 12:12. He cursed again.

In a whirlwind of urgency, Cloud gathered his things and flew out of the inn, sliding down the ladder to ground level. As he sprinted past the bonfire, he saw a red blur rise up and follow him.

"Cloud!" Nanaki called.

Cloud didn't stop until he'd reached the edge of the cliff, shielding his eyes from the sun as he scanned the valley below.

"Cloud—"

"Tifa's gone."

Nanaki froze. "What?!"

Cloud ignored his friend and continued to scrutinize every visible inch of the canyon until finally his eyes fell on a tiny black figure caught in a wisp of desert sand. He turned and made a mad dash for the stairs carved into the side of the cliff, Nanaki running behind. "Cloud, wait! I have something important to tell you!"

When he reached Fenrir waiting at the bottom, Cloud quickly strapped his bag to the back and jumped on, sending the engine thundering to life. "Call me about it."

Fenrir's massive rear wheel kicked up red rock as Cloud slammed the throttle back, drowning out Nanaki's fearsome roar.

* * *

Again, Tifa found herself walking in a daze toward the Nibel Mountains, though this time she was unsure if the urge was really hers. After hearing Nanaki's story, she no longer felt as though she were in control of her own mind. With that feeling came an unbearable burden of doubt, weighing her down like an anchor in a sea of memories. How long, she wondered—how long had she been victim to this plague? How many choices had been made for her?

Her hands grazed the soft, feathery stalks of golden wheat that covered the valley in Nibelheim's shadow. The feeling sent her surging back to the past, remembering how she'd once sprinted through these fields after a fight with her father, the day she'd been told her mother was ill. It was the first time she'd been beyond the town's borders. With this memory came millions more, all splintered and fragmented like shattering glass. She recounted them one by one until there was nothing left but the intimate moments of the night before. Had it truly been her choice to let Cloud in? Or had something much darker made the decision for her?

Utterly consumed in her memories, Tifa didn't notice the low roar of an approaching vehicle until it was nearly upon her. She continued walking even as it slowed down beside her, eyes locked on the jagged peaks rising at the edge of the golden valley.

"Tifa!" came the loud voice of its rider. She ignored it. "Tifa _stop!_"

But she would not. It would be too painful to turn him away if she did. She didn't think she could look at him the same—not after what she'd seen in him the night before.

Suddenly, the bike surged ahead, kicking up heads of wheat and skidding to a stop mere inches in front of her. "_Stop_, I said!"

Finally, she obeyed him, but she kept her eyes locked on her feet.

"Why did you leave?" he demanded, his words tumbling over one another.

Tifa didn't reply. She felt the urge to, but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. She couldn't think of a convincing reason why she'd left him. She could barely remember where she was going anymore, let alone why.

"Tifa _look _at me," his voice was sharp and callous—almost angry.

Finally, she did, but she was careful to keep her gaze away from his eyes, instead leaving it locked on the tattered edge of his collar flailing in the breeze.

"I'm still _here_." Her eyes flickered up to his for no more than an instant, dancing away just in time to avoid being entranced by them. "For what seems like the first time in my life, Tifa, I'm here for you. And I'm not here because you asked, or because I feel sorry for you. I'm here because I _want _to be." She closed her eyes tight. "Because I know you need me—you need me just as much as I need you."

Tifa's breath caught in her throat at the word. _Need_. Was that really what it was? An impulse? A reflex? Ingrained in the body and mind? She was so sure that she'd been fooled into wanting him; false desire conjured up by a plagued mind. A desire could be influenced, persuaded—chosen. But a need—a need couldn't be ignored.

"Are you really going to turn me away now, when we're so close to getting it right?"

Tifa's eyes flew open, meeting his blue gaze willingly for the first time since it had washed over her like a waterfall the night before. "What about this is right to you, Cloud?" she gasped, hands curling into fists. "Do you really think it's normal to always be suffering? Always be questioning reality? Every time I think I'm close to a normal life, something sucks me back in to how it was before. I'm _sick _of having to pretend I'm happy just to make it through the day."

His chest filled with a dignified breath, hiding hurt. "…Pretend?"

Tifa's eyes shifted focus, peering cautiously up at the twisted mountain peak that rose over his shoulder in the distance. "Face it, Cloud," she said softly. "Someone else is always going to be pulling our strings." She allowed a respectful pause before moving slowly by the front wheel of Fenrir, cutting a path through the quivering stalks with feigned purpose.

Soon, she was several paces away from him, and red-roofed houses crawled into view at the edge of the sea of gold, half-hidden by towering mountains. She was surprised when he didn't follow. Perhaps he didn't need her as much as he claimed he did.

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in the back of her calf, and her vision shifted from the base of the mountains to the massive expanse of the sky. Her head slammed hard against the ground, sending stars bursting before her eyes. After a moment, she could feel herself being dragged through the stalks of wheat, her body crunching them down with each violent jerk. She heard her name echoing through the massive valley, followed by the sound of machinery toppling over. When the black blur finally cleared from her eyes, she leaned her chin to her chest to see the wild eyes of a Nibel Wolf glinting up at her from between her legs, calves now drenched in her own blood.

Adrenaline suddenly surged through her body, causing her to turn onto her stomach and claw frantically at the ground. She released an inhuman cry and flailed her leg hard against the Wolf's iron jaws, looking up to see a head of yellow hair bounding through the wheat toward her.

The Wolf clamped down harder on her leg, drawing forth a pained scream. Tifa turned onto her back again and curled her free leg up toward her chest before stomping down hard on the creature's nose. It yelped and released her immediately, but soon there was another set of jaws closing around her wrist and another on her hair. The Wolf at her feet switched legs and clamped down on her other boot, leaving her injured leg useless in the battle to free herself. She flailed her free limbs desperately, but it was no use. She cried pitifully as the pack began dragging her back through the field. "Cloud…"

Just then, a shadow soared over her head, and a pair of heavy boots came down hard on a Wolf's head. The creature gave one small whimper before convulsing with death. There was a crack like thunder overhead, and suddenly all four of her limbs were freed, bloody teeth bared as the Wolves cowered before a blinding light. After another bright flash, they yelped and fled like frightened insects.

Tifa, battered and bleeding, had barely the strength to keep her eyes open long enough to see the source of the light—a tall staff held by a hooded figure towering above her head like a fortress.

Suddenly, the figure stooped down and grasped her arm, heaving her up and over its broad shoulders with a grunt of effort. Tifa rested her head gratefully against her savior's back as he began a slow walk through the wheat, watching as they waved their golden hands goodbye.

* * *

When Tifa stirred, she felt sunlight warming her face in the most familiar way. She could tell the precise angle of it before her eyes even opened, remembering its radiance with painful nostalgia. When her eyelids finally quivered open, she was greeted with a dew-fogged windowpane looking out over a white picket fence and a garden of tulips. The path beside it was trodden deep with hundreds of comings and goings—some happy, some sad. Slowly, Tifa reached her hand out and drew a small heart in the fog on the glass. She was home.

Suddenly, there was the frantic sound of a body stirring, and the weight on the bed shifted.

"Tifa." Even the voice was familiar—older and deeper, but no less drenched in the pains of life. When she turned, she met a gaze more tumultuous than a white-capped ocean. He lowered a shaking hand to her cheek and slipped his fingers around the nape of her neck.

Slowly, Tifa became aware of the dull pains scattered about her body like smoldering coals, remembering the wretched beasts that had caused them. She recalled the presence of a blinding light and the familiar grasp of the man that had conjured the spell. She knew even then that it had not been Cloud that had cast the Wolves away.

"How do you feel?"

Tifa did not have a chance to reply. Over Cloud's shoulder came an aged figure, face streaked with creases and scars, but with grey eyes twinkling from beneath sunken eyelids. A smile ruffled his great beard as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, aided by a twisted, gnarled staff. Tifa ignored the burning pain in her limbs and surged upright, returning the smile gratefully.

"Master."

Their embrace seemed to swallow the entire room, both quivering with tears of joy, sadness, and disbelief. The old man kissed and stroked her head as one would a small child who had just fallen and scraped her knees. He wiped his tears in her soft hair before pulling away and cradling her face in his hands.

"My sweet Tifa," he said, eyes shining. "How I've missed you."

"I knew it was you," Tifa sobbed, rubbing her tears into her cheeks. "Thank you, Master. Thank you so much."

Zangan turned his head to the spectator that stood rigid beside them. "I was not alone."

Tifa let her tear-filled eyes fall on Cloud, who looked shamefully away. Zangan dropped his hands to Tifa's shoulders and gave them a light squeeze, bringing her attention back to him. "Tifa," he said, his voice urgent. "I was wrong to summon you here. You have suffered a long journey. I have asked too much of you."

Tifa quickly shook her head. "I would have gone to the edge of the Planet for you, Master," she whispered.

"No!" He gripped her shoulders tighter. "It is far too dangerous for you here. Something dark stirs in this town, and I fear there is nothing that can be done to save it. I am so sorry, Tifa—"

The floorboards squeaked, and all three of them shot to attention. Two green eyes glinted through the crack in the door, a tiny hand reaching out to push it open further. Tifa felt Zangan relax as a child moved into the room, warm sunlight illuminating her head of wild orange hair. She couldn't have been more than eight years old, face still splashed with freckles and grin half-toothless. She smiled shyly at Zangan before kicking her toe into the rug.

"Hi, Uncle Zanny," the little girl muttered, looking from Zangan to Tifa to Cloud, then back to Zangan.

"Liska, my sweet flower!" The old man's eyes sparkled with delight, and he released Tifa's shoulders to hold his arms out to the child. She giggled and rushed to him, climbing up into his lap.

Zangan, smiling, turned to face Cloud and Tifa. "Liska, these are my friends—Tifa and Cloud."

The little girl twisted her hands and glanced at the pair. "Cloud?" she repeated, looking sheepishly at him. "That's a funny name."

When Tifa looked at him, she saw a smile break across his features for the first time in days. Slowly, he approached the little girl, kneeling down at the edge of the bed beside her. "It is," he agreed, peering curiously at her. "Liska is a much nicer name, I think."

The little girl beamed, and Tifa caught herself smiling just as bright. For a moment, she forgot about the creeping shadows of her past that lurked just outside her window, simply captivated by the child's radiant happiness. She would give anything to feel such innocence again.

"Bothering our guests already, Liska?"

There was another squeak in the floorboards, and a squat old woman suddenly appeared in the doorframe. Liska hopped out of Zangan's lap and ran to her, wrapping her arms around the shrunken woman's frame.

"Nana!" the little girl cried, pulling her grandmother's hand. "Com'ere! Come meet Cloud and Tifa!"

Tifa continued smiling at this wonderful display of affection, though she did find the old woman's attire quite strange. She wore long robes embroidered with strange symbols, and her hair was long enough to even rival Tifa's.

"Hello, little ones," she said, squinting her tiny black eyes at the pair of them. "Welcome to our home. Though—I suppose it's not really _our_ home, now, is it?"

Tifa considered the woman's words, her eyes floating around the room that had been constructed to look identical to the one she's grown up in. She came to the gradual conclusion that Zangan must have told the family about the town's grisly past.

Suddenly, Tifa's gaze fell on Cloud, who was staring at the old woman with something almost like recognition in his eyes. When he sensed Tifa's gaze, he stood up straight and cleared his throat.

"Thank you for taking us in," he said. "We're indebted to your hospitality."

"Nonsense," the old woman said, swatting her hand at him. "I'm sure you'll repay us in due time." A strange spark flew between the pair of them, and Tifa felt a hint of the lingering darkness surge back to the forefront. Finally, the old woman smiled and turned to her granddaughter, her black beetle eyes disappearing behind wrinkled cheeks. "Come, Liska. Let's go help your mother finish making dinner for your new friends."

The old woman made for the door, the little girl galloping behind.


	11. Shield

**AN: **Hi everyone! I'm back with another update, and this is a pretty big one! I'm not gonna say anything to spoil the suspense, but I really hope you like where I'm takin' ya ;) If you do, please leave a review! There's still so much to reveal, and I want to know how the story is being received so far.

Thank you so much for reading. It means the world to me! Enjoy!

* * *

The more Tifa listened to Liska talk, the more she realized how much she missed the kids. She and Cloud had only been gone a week now, but it somehow felt like they'd spent half an eternity crossing the two continents, growing ever closer to an uncertain fate. It was a much needed respite to listen to the little girl prattle on about every little thing in the world, her words jumbled together like gibberish in excitement. It was the perfect distraction.

As dinner was prepared, Liska occupied the group of them by conducting very formal introductions for everyone: her mother, Cassina (better known as "Mama"), her grandmother, Imogen (or simply "Nana"), and all of her many dolls and toys. She boasted proudly how her Mama and Nana had made all of them for her, each one special in its own way. Tifa was impressed with the craftsmanship of the toys, which appeared to be constructed out of nothing more than objects from nature. In fact, everything in the house seemed to reflect that value, from hand-sewn drapes to untreated furniture and cookware. Tifa barely recognized her own home anymore, but somehow, she preferred it that way.

When it seemed Liska had exhausted herself of things to say, her grandmother let out a soft laugh.

"Done with the introductions already, Liska?" she said. "What about your Papa?"

Liska's eyes grew wide. "Papa's name was Thaeo." She said softly. "Nana says he went back to the Planet. I miss him, but I know he's not lonely. He's got a _gazillion_ friends now!"

Tifa's heart grew heavy as she listened to the little girl speak about her departed Papa. It reminded her painfully of the absence of her own father.

Cassina spoke to break the awkward silence that followed. "My husband passed away from Geostigma," she explained, with surprising composure. "That'll be two years ago this fall. We all miss him very much."

Tifa found her eyes drawn to Cloud for the first time since she'd awoken beside him several hours earlier. He was sitting on the bench beneath the kitchen window, one leg drawn up to his chest as he stared out over the town he had once called home. She knew he could feel her eyes on him, but he wouldn't look at her.

Tifa suddenly turned her attention back to the table as Cassina arrived with a pot of boiling stew. "I'm sorry for your loss," Tifa said awkwardly.

Cassina smiled as she placed the meal down. "It's alright," she replied. "We are all called back to the Planet someday. Thaeo simply returned home a bit sooner than the rest of us."

Tifa envied the woman's serenity. She couldn't fathom how Cassina had managed to avoid letting her soul be poisoned by bitterness after such a deep loss. Tifa wished she could still smile with such grace and sincerity.

Liska suddenly scooted away from the table and raced to where Cloud sat, pulling eagerly on his dangling hand. "Come on, Cloud! Dinner's ready!"

He turned slowly to her and forced a small smile before getting up and following her back to the table. She hopped onto the bench next to Tifa and patted the empty space beside her. Cloud took the invitation and sat down, waiting for his turn to serve himself.

Imogen hummed idly as she ladled thick soup into a bowl. "So, Cloud—Tifa," she began, looking each of them in the face with her beady black eyes. "Zangan tells me you were once from this town."

Tifa nodded, taking up the ladle from the pot when the old woman had finished. "Yes. That was before Shinra destroyed it eight years ago."

Imogen clicked her tongue. "Ah yes," she said reverently. "The beginning of a nightmare. It seems nothing but misfortune has befallen this town since that lamentable day."

Tifa's heart skipped a beat as the old woman spoke—it seemed she knew quite a bit more than she let on.

"I fear you couldn't have come home at a more inopportune time," Imogen went on. "There is something dark plaguing this town, as I'm sure Zangan has told you."

Suddenly, Liska tugged on Tifa's sleeve, bringing back to reality. She passed the ladle on before returning her attention to Imogen.

"So," the woman continued, her eyes disappearing beneath a wrinkled smile. "What brings you back to Nibelheim after all these years?"

Tifa caught sight of Zangan across the table, who looked away shamefully. She hated to see him like that. "Zangan was once my sensei," she said simply. "We were separated after the town's destruction, but he was finally able to reach me two weeks ago, after almost eight years." She gave Zangan a sincere smile, but he didn't return it.

"I see," Imogen mused deeply. "And what about you, Cloud?" He dropped his spoon onto the side of his bowl with a loud _clink_. "What summoned you back to this place?"

Cloud stared at the old woman for a moment, but his face slowly grew serious. "I'm just along for the ride," he said in a low voice, returning to his meal.

Again, Cassina offered a smile to warm the suddenly chilly atmosphere. "How nice of him to accompany you," she said to Tifa. "Have you two known each other very long?"

Tifa returned the smile in spite of herself. "Since we were children," she confirmed.

Liska suddenly turned to Tifa with her green eyes twinkling. "Are you guys married?"

Cassina nearly dropped her bowl. "Liska—!"

Tifa laughed unexpectedly and touched the girl's wild orange hair. "No, sweetheart," she said softly. "But we do have a little niece who's just about your age. I'm sure she'd love to meet you sometime."

Liska beamed. "Really?! What's her name?"

The group of them laughed and exchanged small talk for the remainder of the meal—except, of course, for Cloud, who spoke only when he was spoken to. Tifa tried not to take this to heart, knowing it was just how he was—quiet, and a bit socially awkward. But she wished he would try to open up to these kind people—or, at the very least, show them one of his contagious smiles.

Tifa caught herself grinning at the thought of his thin-lipped smile, and she suddenly realized she'd almost forgotten about their passionate encounter two nights before. It now seemed like ages ago since he had touched her with heated hands—kissed her as she'd always imagined he might. She remembered loving and hating every moment of it, savoring the heavenly pleasures, but cursing the poor timing and unfortunate consequences. In the moment, she'd thought she might have waited her whole life for him to open his heart to her in such a way, but when she'd awoken in his warm embrace the next morning, she found herself wondering if she'd truly been ready to do the same.

Tifa was pulled from her daydream by a sudden flash bursting in through the windows. Liska jumped and clung to Tifa's shirt, her green eyes wide. A shattering roll of thunder followed a moment behind.

"Ooh," Imogen hummed, "sounds like this is going to be a bad one."

Tifa felt Liska release the fabric of her shirt, but her face was still twisted with unease. "Mama..." she whispered, looking to her mother.

Cassina stood and crossed behind her daughter, slipping her hands under the girl's arms. "Come on, little one," she said, hoisting Liska off the bench and onto the ground. "Let's get you tucked into bed before the storm comes."

Liska grasped her mother's hand as they made their way across the kitchen, but she turned around before they left the room. "Goodnight, Cloud," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Goodnight, Tifa."

They bade her goodnight, almost in unison, and Tifa waved as the girl trudged up the stairs to bed.

Just then, another streak of lightning cut through the sky. It was closer than she'd ever seen before. She remembered storms being very rare in Nibelheim growing up, most of them wrestled into submission by the mountains before ever reaching the foothills.

"They've been getting worse," Imogen said in a serious tone. "Soon I fear there will be nothing left of this town when we wake."

A crack of thunder sent a chill through Tifa's bones. It sounded almost unnatural, but the howling wind that followed was even worse. She leaned back to look over Cloud's shoulder at the window, shocked to see a huge wall of sand suddenly wash over it, battering the house with a sound like scraping claws.

Suddenly, Tifa rose up out of her seat and brushed her way toward the window, feeling as though she were being summoned into the storm. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and she caught sight of a reflection in the glass—but it wasn't her own. She stared into the swirling dirt and sand and felt the storm speak to her, howling its pain. Reality slipped away and she found herself standing on the precipice of a memory with the wind at her back, threatening to push her over.

"This is..."

There was a weight on her shoulder, and she came racing back to reality. Another flash illuminated a more familiar reflection, this time with Cloud standing just beside it.

She turned to see Imogen standing behind them, peering curiously at her in the deep and sudden dark.

"This is what, dear?" she probed, black eyes glinting.

Tifa looked to Cloud and then to Zangan, feeling the pull of the memories fading from her mind. "The elders of Cosmo Canyon told us what's happening here," she said at last. "An ancient plague is coming back. But it's not just Nibelheim anymore. It's spreading. It's just like this in Gongaga too."

Lightning flashed in Imogen's eyes, and she suddenly looked centuries older than she was. "What else did the elders tell you?"

Tifa hesitated. She didn't know why, but she suddenly felt very untrusting of the old woman. She had warmed quickly to the family because she'd been smitten by the little girl, and because Zangan seemed to trust them—but in truth, she knew absolutely nothing about these people. The woman's sudden curiosity worried her.

"Speak, girl," Imogen hissed. Cloud gripped tighter to Tifa's shoulder. "I will not bite. But there are things I must know if I am to tell you more."

Tifa took a deep breath. Something inside her kept her from speaking up, but she could tell the old woman knew things she didn't—things she needed to discover, for the sake of her own sanity.

"They showed us scrolls," she began, her voice surprisingly commanding, "from a tribe that once lived at the foothills of the Nibel Mountains. They told of a plague that nearly wiped out their entire race." The old woman stood still as a statue. "Pestilence. It's coming back."

The next flash of lightning illuminated a smile on the old woman's lips. "Yes," she said slowly, "and no." She paused to allow the deep roll of thunder to dissipate. "Did they tell you about the Priestess? About her eternal legacy and inextinguishable will?"

Tifa's doubts suddenly melted away, but they were replaced soon after with an instinctual fear. The old woman drew nearer, and Tifa stepped back until she was pressed against Cloud's chest.

"The elders are very knowledgeable," she began, "but they do not know the whole story. They cannot tell you what you need to know: why you hear whispers in the dark—why you see ancient memories in the depths of your dreams."

Suddenly, Cloud swept around Tifa, placing his body between her and the old woman. "And you can?"

Imogen's face softened as it fell upon Cloud. She inspected him with a pleased smile. "Come," she said over the roar of the storm. "There is something you all should see."

None of them dare ask any questions—not even Zangan, who looked as though he'd just seen a very unwelcome ghost. Imogen linked her hands behind her back and began a slow shuffle toward the other end of the house, the group of them following close behind. She led the way down a darkened hall and steep stairs, which Tifa immediately recognized as the basement. She had only been allowed there a spare few times in her childhood, as it was where her father had kept his carpenter's workshop. She suspected it was also where he'd moved all the pictures and portraits of her mother after she'd died, as Tifa never saw a single one of them in all the years that followed. She half-expected to feel those eyes on her again at the bottom of the stairs, but when the lights came up, she didn't recognize the place at all. It was strangely empty compared to the rest of the house, shelves filled mostly with canned food or spare clothing. Imogen moved through them to the back of the dimly-lit room, stopping in front of a shelf full of books and paper. She pushed aside a stack of them to reveal a long, carefully rolled scroll, its parchment weathered and time-worn.

"The elders' collection is nearly complete," the old woman muttered, setting the scroll down on a table nearby. "But I'm afraid this will always be absent from their volumes."

Tifa stared in awe as Imogen unraveled the crumpled paper. She was entranced by its beautiful lettering and perfect alignment, though it was written in a language she couldn't even begin to understand.

"How did you get this?" she asked in a reverent tone.

"My dear," Imogen cooed with a smile. "This scroll has been handed down in my family for generations."

Tifa's eyes flew wide. All the pieces were finally beginning to fit together.

"We are among the last descendants of the Haka tribe," Imogen went on. "We have lived in the shadow of the mountains for centuries, but the eruption of the Lifestream finally forced us from our homes. We were in the midst of rebuilding what was left behind when Thaeo fell ill. We came to Nibelheim in the hopes that he would be more comfortable, but… Well, that's neither here nor there." She pointed to the scroll, but Tifa couldn't make out any of the strange letters or symbols.

"The scroll speaks of the great Plague's inevitable return," Imogen began. "The Priestess knew her mortal soul would one day grow weary, and the Cetras' blessings would no longer keep her from returning to the Planet. The Calamity would once again rise up and take revenge upon the land and all her people."

The scattered remnants of Tifa's soul crumbled away as the old woman spoke. She had known in her heart since Cosmo Canyon—perhaps longer—that these things were true. But to finally hear them spoken out loud—it simply shattered her.

"Then it's true," Tifa whispered, her eyes misty as they gazed upon the scroll. "Jenova is coming back…through me this time."

Imogen turned sharply on her, wrinkled face hung with a look like disgust. "Don't be stupid, girl," she barked. "Who told you these things?"

Tifa opened her mouth to protest, but she stopped before a single word could come out. She could think of not a single name that had whispered these thoughts into her—not Cloud, not Vincent, not Nanaki. Not even herself.

"Is that what you think?" Imogen went on. "That you share your spirit with the Plague? If that is the truth, perhaps you are not as smart as I thought." She turned her attention back to the scroll and placed her finger on the glimmering symbols. "The scroll goes on to speak of the Priestess's eternal legacy. Though her spirit would one day return to the Planet, my ancestors believed her will would live on and circle the world, speaking with the people, calling on them to rise up against the Plague. They believed she would pass her traits onto a chosen protector, an Immune, who would be given the power to subdue the Plague in her stead." When she reached the end of the scroll, Imogen lifted her hand from the page and turned to Tifa, who stood trembling beside her. "So you see, little one—you are not a vessel for the Plague, but for the eternal legacy of the Priestess. You are her will. You are her strength. You are Immune."

* * *

The storm assaulted the town hours after everyone had gone to bed. Without his phone, Cloud would have had no way of knowing how many hours had passed since its arrival. The howling of the wind and the scrape of debris filled the emptiness of the house with a sound like a steady wave of static, but Cloud preferred it that way. The silence would have made it too easy to think.

Even with the dull drone, he couldn't quite fall asleep—his mind stuck on the hinges between waking and dreaming. He still wasn't completely sure the past twenty-four hours hadn't been just an awful nightmare. It had been years since his will and sanity had been tested in such a way, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take before he might break again.

Every time he closed his eyes, his mind floated back to Tifa within minutes. Even growing up, he knew there would always be things about her that he wouldn't understand, but the day's events had struck him especially hard. He simply couldn't imagine her, Tifa, his childhood friend, as a vessel for an ancient spirit, called to serve the Planet without even knowing it. He was relieved, of course, that it hadn't been something darker as they'd feared, but he had a creeping suspicion that her new fate might be equally grim.

As he lay in this dark and hollow home, there was only one thing Cloud was sure of: that he would stay by her side until his last very last breath.

The sudden revelation manifested in his body like an orbital pull, and soon Cloud found himself rising up from his empty bed on the floor of the living room, heading up the stairs in silence. He found his way to Tifa's room as if its location had been programed into his body, though in truth he'd only been in it four times in his life—this to be the fifth. He pushed the half-cracked door aside and made sure to step over the squeaking floorboard, gliding quietly across the weathered carpet. She was lying with her back to him, her form curled comfortably beneath an old quilt. Her hair was sprawled almost purposefully across the pillow, as if each strand had been placed by an artist's meticulous hand. He stood over her for a moment, simply contemplating her beauty, before he finally decided to sit down on the bench in front of her piano.

It was comforting to watch her breathe.

When he'd heard about her higher calling, Cloud had almost immediately stopped thinking of Tifa as human. It was as if her spirit had ascended to the Lifestream then and there, materializing in a mist of blue and green light. And yet, here she lay, her cheeks glowing pink in the flashes of lightning, shoulders rising and falling with each living breath. She was still with him.

Almost in the blink of an eye, Cloud was standing again and moving to rest himself on the edge of the bed. The mattress squeaked from the weight of his body, but she didn't stir right away. When he rested his hand on the exposed skin of her shoulder, she twitched ever so slightly, her eyes rolling under her eyelids in sporadic patterns. He brushed his thumb across the fine hairs on her arm, watching them stand up in response to his gentle touch.

Suddenly, he was lying down and shifting under the covers, his chest moving to fit against her back. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her even closer to him, absolutely enveloping himself in the radiance of her. He loved how she was always warmer than him, as if her heart was beating just a little bit faster.

Suddenly, her body tensed up, and he felt her lungs fill with a deep breath. She turned in his arms, almost frightened at first, until her tired eyes fell on him and softened with recognition.

"Cloud…"

He reached his hand up and spread the pads of his fingers across her cheek, but she grasped his hand a moment later. She turned away, and he chased her with his lips, placing kisses on the glowing edge of her jaw. He turned his hand over and threaded his fingers between hers and moved to kiss the nape of her neck, but she slipped her hand free and pulled the quilt higher over her shoulder. "Cloud, please," she whispered. "Not here… Not now."

Cloud closed his hand into a fist on the sheets. "If not now…when?"

She didn't turn to him—didn't speak. She was afraid, but so was he.

He left her, pulled his arm agonizingly slow across her abdomen, feathering his fingertips across the smooth skin of her hip. He made sure to tuck the covers back around her before he turned away. When he left the room, he no longer cared to skip the squeaking floorboard or close the door behind him. He wanted her to remember that he'd been there—that he was _still_ there.

As empty as he'd come, he was gone, back down to the heart of the cold and groaning house. As he passed through the kitchen, he caught sight of a figure sitting at the window, silver hair set alight in the flash of a lightning bolt. He stood still and watched the old woman turn to him, something like compassion pulling at the deep corners of her lips.

"Can't sleep, little one?"

He tensed. "And you?"

Imogen laughed and pushed herself to her feet, shuffling across the floor toward him. "I don't sleep much anymore," she said. "These storms are deafening to my old ears." She inspected him, as she'd made such a habit of doing. "But something tells me it's neither wind nor thunder that keeps you up this night."

"Just not tired."

Imogen clicked her tongue. "You can't lie to me, my dear," she hummed, squinting one of her black eyes at him. "You wear your spirit in your eyes. Their glow is unmistakable. You're wondering how you fit into this story, aren't you? You always are."

Cloud didn't reply—but he knew he didn't have to.

"You needn't fear for her, little one," the old woman went on. Her voice was softer and clearer. It rose above even the rumble of the thunder. "For even the protector is protected."

"What do you mean?"

The old woman giggled into the back of her hand. "Have you never questioned?" she continued. "Have you never wondered why you are so bound to her? Why you always seem to sweep in at the last moment to save her? There is no promise deeper than one made in the heart, dear Cloud, but this was never your promise to make."

Cloud felt the same transcendence he'd sensed in Tifa fall upon him in a sudden rush. It was like looking into the sun—forever there, but never directly in his sights.

"For it is destiny that you should become her Shield—her protector, and protector of the entire Planet."


	12. Blue

**AN: **Very, _very_ sorry for the long break between updates. I won't bore you with the lame excuses, but suffice to say life can get pretty crazy sometimes! Anyway, I've been Frankenstein-ing this chapter together for weeks now, so I apologize if it's seems a bit disjointed. I always seem to have a tough time with these really plot-heavy chapters, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Hopefully I'll be a bit more active in the coming weeks so you won't have to wait as long for the next one :)

Thanks much for your patience and understanding. Please review this chapter and let me know how you're liking things thus far. I appreciate your readership, as always!

* * *

When Tifa awoke, the air was utterly still. It felt deafening in her ears, which during the night had grown used to the constant hum of wind and thunder and rain. Her heavy eyes parted to darkness, the blinds beside her bed still drawn and covering all but a thin strip of gray light against the window. Slowly, she rose to a sitting position, slipping her finger between two slats and parting them, but she still couldn't see a thing. The rising sun was obscured behind black clouds, filtering weak light and turning the town below into nothing but eerie shapes.

She let the shades snap closed when she heard the familiar sound of the floorboards squeaking. Tifa didn't turn at first, recognizing the slow, wide gait almost immediately. No one but Cloud would be up this early. She didn't want to look at him, knowing his eyes would be filled with all the thoughts she wanted so badly to avoid. Looking at him would remind her of too many unwanted truths—too many harsh realities.

The footsteps stopped mere inches behind her, soon followed by the steady shift of weight on the bed. Her mouth was half-open, ready to send him away again, when light fingertips suddenly landed on her bare shoulder. The touch did not belong to Cloud—it did not belong to anyone anymore.

She spun and laid her gaze on eyes like warm honey, hair as dark and long as her own. Pink lips turned heavenward, stretching faded freckles across a gently sloping nose, summoning tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Though she could have been looking in a mirror, Tifa barely recognized the angel that sat before her.

"Did you have a nightmare, baby girl?"

Air rushed into her lungs and she surged upright, clutching frantically at her chest. Her heart seemed to be more quivering than beating, such as it had been the moment she'd been told her mother was gone. The visage was now burned into the back of her eyelids, so much so that she couldn't tell whether it had been a dream or a vision, or both. Her mother had now been gone from her life longer than she'd been in it, and for many years, Tifa almost forgot what she looked like. It was as if all her memories had shifted around to the point where she could no longer decipher what was old and what was new—what was hers and what wasn't.

It was many moments before her heart returned to a normal pattern, smothered by the heaving cage of her ribs. She could feel her self-control slipping through her fingers like sand, forfeited to some ancient entity that had been sleeping in her soul since birth. Imogen had spoken of the incident with great reverence, as if there was honor in being chosen as the Priestess's vessel, but Tifa felt no honor in losing herself, even to a benevolent spirit. After years of playing puppet to the will of the Planet, she found herself wanting, more than anything, to have a life of her own.

Tifa turned to the window and set her eyes on the same light she'd seen in her dream—dark and gray and full of pre-dawn mist. It poured down from the mountains like a river, wrapping the houses in its cold embrace. She could barely see the mountains obscured behind the fog, but she could feel them calling out to her—a never-ending whisper that seemed to echo more in her heart than in her mind. She knew it would not be ignored.

Half of her own will, half on the whim of instinct, Tifa rose up from the warmth of her bed and glided down the stairs like a spirit. She traced her hand down the railing that had once felt enormous in the palms of her eight-year-old hands. For a brief moment, she almost felt that small again, as if she'd just awoken from a dream to find everything as it had been those fifteen years ago. But when she came upon the kitchen—lacking the distinct scent of steeping tea and the soft mumble of the radio—the illusion came crumbling down.

Slowly, Tifa passed into the living room, her eyes falling to the gray-lit figure lying curled on the floor beneath the window. The dull ache of instinct faded into the back of her mind as she gazed upon Cloud, the sensation replaced with a sudden need to reach out and touch him—to make sure he was real. Regretfully, she ignored the urge, knowing it would be too hard to accept it if he was not. Just the sight of him would have to be enough to feed the hunger of her mind. She took time to commit it all to memory—the thin lines of his lips as they parted to pull in air, the twitch of his fingers around sprawled sheets—lest they be lost among her memories forever.

Silently, Tifa slipped out the front door as she had countless times before as a teenager, knowing just how to turn the knob so it would close without a sound. She'd only ever been caught once while sneaking out of the house, one unlucky night when her father had stumbled home drunk from the pup just past midnight to find her halfway to Johnny's house. Neither of them had spoken of that night ever again.

Now, Tifa took no care to tread lightly or avoid being seen, simply following the pull of instinct toward the towering mountains beyond. Even with the feeling of nostalgia circling her mind, she was finding increasingly difficult to remember what the town once looked like. The storm had battered it beyond recognition—the bed of tulips buried by dirt and debris, houses packed with drifts of mud two stories high. Shingles were flaking off roofs and shutters splintering from their hinges, tortured by unearthly winds. It was only when she came upon the well that Tifa took time to stop and marvel at the monument of her past, her spirit shaken by its shocking unfamiliarity. The wooden slats, which had been weathered even back then, now looked rotted and dead, on the verge of collapsing. The weathervane had rusted off its hinges and was now hanging onto the pipe for dear life, groaning and squeaking in the light breeze. She approached the dilapidated structure, eyes wide in awe, and ran her hands along the half-charred wood she remembered climbing and clawing up as if it were yesterday. This was more than just neglect—this was vengeance.

There was a noise like groaning metal, and Tifa drew her hand away from the wood slats as if they'd burned her. There was another soft groan, and she dipped down to see a pair of tiny feet dangling from one of the support beams under the well. Soon after, Liska's smiling face came into view. "Tifa!" she exclaimed, her voice a high whisper.

"Liska," Tifa hissed back, "what are you doing out here this early?"

The little girl lowered her head before sliding off the beam onto the ground. "It was so quiet when I woke up," Liska squeaked. "I wanted to come play before another storm came."

Tifa opened her mouth with the intent to scold the little girl, but something held her back.

"What about you?" Liska pressed, coming to stand mere inches from her. "Where are you going?"

Tifa smiled brightly and leaned down to eye level with the girl. "Just for a walk."

Liska screwed up her face with a skeptical look before her eyes went wide. "You're going to see the blue lady, aren't you!"

Tifa blinked, watching with surprise as the girl began bouncing wildly. "Who?"

"The _blue lady!_" Liska repeated, louder this time. "She lives up on Mount Nibel, but sometimes, if it's really quiet like this, she'll come down and play in the caves with me."

Tifa's eyes went wide as the little girl spoke. Something that felt like a memory surged to the forefront of her mind—blue light splashing across gray rocks, warm and cold at the same time—and then suddenly it was gone. Liska grabbed her hand and heaved all her weight into pulling her toward the mountains.

"Come on," she hissed. "I'll show you!"

Against her better judgment, Tifa conceded and jogged behind the girl as she hurried up the path at the edge of town. They climbed up a set of winding stone steps, and the Shinra mansion suddenly blurred into view in the distance. It was the only structure that was left standing after the hellish flames that had torn through the town eight years before, and yet somehow, it seemed the most unnatural of them all.

In a moment, the towering mansion was gone, disappearing behind even more massive mountains, and Tifa turned her eyes back to the path before her. Liska was still clutching to her hand, a wild red ponytail swinging behind her as she scampered up the steep slopes. The sky grew ever darker the higher they climbed, light reflecting and refracting off the remnants of storm clouds entangled around jagged mountain peaks. In all the dozens of times she'd walked these paths, never had she felt so afraid. Back then, it had always seemed more like a challenge—a way to test her strength and courage during a time in her life when dependency and complacency were her worst enemies. Now, though, that courage had dwindled to mere embers in her soul, and she found herself wondering if she truly had the strength to face what awaited her on the other side of the mountain.

They had just arrived at the edge of a tall peak when Liska stopped abruptly and peered down on the winding paths below. Tifa left her eyes locked on the girl, almost too afraid to look over the precipice that lay before her. Suddenly, a wide grin broke on Liska's face, and she pointed at the valley below, finally drawing Tifa's gaze to it.

"Look!" she hissed.

Tifa almost missed it—a glow that could have been nothing more than a rogue ray of sunlight crawling across gray rocks. It disappeared into a dark cave almost as soon as she laid eyes on it, but just the brief sight of it set her heart on fire.

Liska was tugging on her hand again. "Hurry!"

Almost in a skip, the little girl set off again, scaling down the steep path toward the cave. Tifa, now free of the uncertainty that had held her back, rushed after her, desperate for another glimpse of that light.

Soon, the path leveled out and twisted around a boulder to reveal the mouth of a green-tinted cave—one that Tifa recognized immediately. This had been one her favorite training spots when she was studying the martial arts under Zangan's careful tutelage. She remembered feeling infinitely powerful here, under the warm glow of Mako crystals and tested by its harsh terrain. As they entered now, she thought she might have felt the ghosts of her own footsteps from nearly a decade before.

As the pair of them pushed deeper into the honeycombed caverns, a distinct smell seemed to grow ever present in the air. It smelled sweet and familiar. Tifa could tell it hadn't been here the last time she'd come through this cave, but it somehow felt as natural as the ancient rock that surrounded them.

Just then, Liska stopped dead at a fork in the path, her tiny green eyes peering around the cave in contemplative wonder. Tifa stood still and watched her until suddenly her eyes were drawn away by a soft blue glow reappearing at the edge of her vision. It warmed the depths of a tunnel beside them, slowly receding into its blackness.

As if the little girl could sense Tifa's urgency, Liska set off down it at a run. Tifa had to duck out of the way of a dangling stalactite as she skittered behind the girl, her heart thumping less from the effort and more from the sheer anticipation. They were barely keeping pace with the whispered blue light. It raced across the cave walls, ducking around sharp corners and steep drops as if trying to outrun them. Tifa wouldn't let it get away. She hungered for its warmth as one hungers for life—but she couldn't even begin to know why.

Consumed by this desire, Tifa barely noticed when the light suddenly dropped completely out of sight on the path ahead of them. Liska didn't stop. Tifa's senses surged back into her, and she pulled hard on the little girl's arm, causing her to yelp as her body jerked and pivoted away from a steep ledge. Tifa hugged her close and attempted to lean her momentum backward, but it was too late—she lost her footing as the edge crumbled under their feet, sending them sliding down the steep slope below. Tifa cried out as they careened down rock and crumbling gravel, clutching tightly to Liska in an attempt to shield her from the impact. After a quick but painful descent, Tifa finally felt her body level out. She lay on the cold ground for several minutes with her eyes squeezed shut and Liska trembling in her arms. As the adrenaline withered away she allowed her eyes to part, shocked and relieved to find them filled with the light she had so desperately sought.

It bloomed like sunlight from the center of the deep cavern, so bright she couldn't look at it right away. When her eyes finally adjusted, the source of the light came into view—a fountain of flowing blue Mako, trickling out from a crack in the cave wall. It collected in a small pool several feet away from where they had landed, and yet is glow was thrown on every inch of the cavern, enveloping it in warmth. Slowly, Tifa sat up straight, cradling Liska in her lap. The girl relaxed and let her eyes open to take in the sights as well.

Despite being smudged with dirt and dust, it wasn't long before Liska's face broke with an excited smile. She stood up and hurried toward the fountain, turning back halfway to look at Tifa. "Come here!" she whispered, waving her hand wildly.

Wincing, Tifa pushed herself to her feet, shaking out a bruised arm. As she neared the fountain, her nose was bombarded with the sweet scent of natural Mako—cleaner and more pure than any that had ever come from a reactor. Somehow, Tifa was certain this had not been here the last time she'd explored this cavern. She'd only ever come across one natural Mako fountain in the Nibel Mountains in all the years she'd explored them, and never had the sight of one filled her with such elation or euphoria. It was as if the viscous stream had slowly chiseled its way through the cracks in the rock, bursting out just in time to meet her.

"She should be here," Liska mumbled under her breath, casting her eyes around the blue-lit cave. "_Come out!_" she hissed. "I want you to meet my friend!"

Tifa barely noticed as the little girl made her way across the cavern, peeking her head behind this rock and that bolder, trying to find any sign of her fabled blue lady. Tifa knew it had just been the girl's imagination—it was this fountain that had been the source of the light all along.

Beside her, Liska peeked into a small hole in the cavern wall. "Don't be afraid!" she whispered. "You can come—"

She stopped, and Tifa, finally wrenching her eyes away from the fountain, turned her head as the girl slowly began backing away from the hole. From its depths came a sound like crumpling paper, quiet at first, then slowly growing louder with each passing second. As if the sound had woken her from a dream, Tifa suddenly remembered where she was. She surged forward and took Liska by the shoulders, tucking her tiny frame behind her just as a flash of green appeared on the cavern wall. She saw its feelers first—feathery antennae gliding around the hole from which its thin, twitching body soon emerged. A Kyuvilduns. It was larger than she'd remembered, red eyes gleaming like huge rubies in the light of the fountain, bladed legs clinging to the cave wall as it climbed out of the hole. It hissed angrily at the pair of them, and Tifa, thinking fast, quickly pulled on her leather gloves. She was about to lunge at the creature—take it by surprise—when the crumpling sound suddenly filled the dense air like a symphony. Flashes of green soon appeared all around them, accompanied by a pair of glinting red eyes for each one. Surrounded.

Tifa cursed herself for her foolishness. In the wake of these dreams and visions, she had allowed her angst to put Liska in great danger. The Kyu were quickly swarming the cavern, and Tifa could feel the girl quivering against her legs. Slowly, she backed toward the wall beside the fountain, shielding Liska from their flickering glares.

It happened in an instant—red and green flashed in her peripheral vision, leaving her just enough time to lift her leg and slam the heel of her boot into the creature's head. Liska screamed as the Kyu's exoskeleton broke with a loud _crack,_ and it fell twitching to the cave floor.

The air grew suddenly and utterly still. The heinous creatures hushed their chattering pincers and wings, all glaring at their fallen comrade. Her jaw clenched tight, Tifa fell into stance and raised her fists in defiance.

They descended like the winds of a storm—stunted wings fluttering and fanged jaws snapping. Tifa kept the first wave of them at bay with her trained fists, but they soon wore on her defenses, sharp claws landing blows to her legs and arms. She pushed through the pain, remembering what she was fighting to protect. Liska whimpered in her shadow, curled into a tight ball with her hands clamped over her ears. Tifa spared every glance she could to ensure the little girl was safe, but the Kyu's merciless onslaught soon became too much. She ducked to avoid one of the creature's flying limbs and swept her leg across the ground, sending a wave of them flying in the wake of it. Just when she thought she'd driven them back, another swarm was soon upon her.

There as a sharp, sudden pain in her side, and Tifa glanced down to see one of the creatures latched onto her middle. It sank its teeth into the soft flesh there, dragging forth a pained scream from her heaving lungs. Rage seized control of her body, and she reached down to grasp the Kyu by its grotesque head, ripping it free from her side. She threw it hard against the cave wall and clasped her hand to the wound, panting.

"_Tifa!_"

She wheeled to see a swarm of Kyu circling Liska where she sat against the wall of the cave, and Tifa pushed her way through the skittering creatures to throw herself on the girl. She wrapped her arms around Liska and turned her back to the swarm, begging for something—anything—to save them from this grim fate.

And then it came. It sounded like water rushing over a great cascade, drowning out the creatures and their haunting cries. Even through closed eyes, Tifa could feel the bright flare erupting from the ground. It encircled them, covering them in a veil of warmth. Beyond the shield of light, she could hear the Kyu's muffled cries, high and sharp like breaking bones. Slowly, Tifa opened her eyes, just in time to see the veil dissolve into glimmering dust, leaving nothing but corpses in its wake.

Tifa dropped her quivering arms away from Liska and turned away from the wall of the cave, letting her gaze trail over the decimation before her. When her eyes finally came to rest on the fountain—still glowing warmly beside them—her heart nearly leapt from her chest.

"_Mama?_"

There she was. Standing ankle-deep in the swirling Mako, cloaked in blue light and smiling the way she had been when the sickness had taken her. Nothing had changed, and yet everything was different.

Tifa rose and left Liska, weaving her way through the dead creatures toward the fountain. "Mama, is that you?"

Her blue-lipped smile broadened, and she reached a glowing palm out. "There's my baby girl." Her voice rang like wind through crystals, as if it had come from every dimension in the universe. "It's been so long since you came to see me."

Tifa stopped just within arm's reach of the spirit, but she would not raise her hand to meet it. She stood still for a long time, trying to convince herself that this wasn't just a dream—or death…or worse.

"Mama, where are you?" she choked. "Where did you go?"

"I'm right here, baby," the spirit urged. "I've always been here."

Thousands of questions sat poised on the edge of her tongue, but there was only one that Tifa could muster.

"Why?"

Translucent eyes blinked, pulling Tifa deeper into the illusion. "The Planet needed me," her mother replied. "Just like it needs you now."

Tifa felt tears stream down her cheeks, unbidden, but long overdue. Liska moved beside her and grasped her trembling hand. "What do you mean?" she asked—though she was fearful of the answer.

"She's wearing me down, baby girl. I won't last much longer." Her voice lost its ethereal tone, sounding ever more human with each passing second. "I'm so sorry, Tifa… But you have to come home. We need you."

The glowing fingers stretched out further, but Tifa flinched away. "…We?"

"Please, baby girl. Come _home_."

Tifa stared at the glowing palm, recalling how it had last felt, closing weakly around her tiny fingers. She could remember every crack and callous, every line and wrinkle, but she saw none of them on the glowing blue skin held out before her.

"I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered, raising her eyes to the angelic face. "I can't."

"What are you saying, Tifa?" she gasped. "This is what you were made for. This is your destiny."

Tifa shook her head and backed away, cradling Liska to her side. "I'm so sorry," she choked. Tears poured down her cheeks and over her throat. "I have too much to live for. I'm not ready to go. I can't—"

"Then you will _die_ anyway!" Blue light turned the harshest black—so black, it forced Tifa's gaze away, her body racked with the pain of guilt. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from it, watching through her fingers as her mother morphed into an unrecognizable specter, malice poisoning the pure Mako at her feet. "The Plague will infect these lands, and your spirit will wither away, leaving your body to be nothing more than a slave for her will!"

Black sludge bubbled up where the Mako had once cast its warm glow, bursting through the cracks in the rock as if searching for something.

Liska pulled hard on Tifa's free hand, but remorse left her rooted to the spot. "Mama, please! Don't—don't make me do it!"

But all semblance of her mother soon dissolved before her eyes, leaving nothing but darkness and the echo of her cruel words. "_Mama—_" Tifa reached helplessly into the void as the poisoned Mako surged up around her ankles, feeling hot and cold all at once. A hissing sound rose above her pained cries, and Liska was suddenly pulling even harder on her arm. All around her, red rubies glinted in the dark, and crooked green limbs straightened until the corpses were alive again, feeding on the poisoned Mako like lifeblood.

Liska screamed, and finally Tifa turned to the girl. Her foot was slowly sinking into the black sludge, and a possessed Kyu was closing in on her. The illusion crumbled as she watched this disaster unfold, until she was left with nothing but the harsh, true reality.

Tifa turned and wrapped her arms tight around the girl's middle, pulling her straight out of her shoes. She then threw the girl onto her back and shook herself free from the sludge before making a mad dash for the entrance to the cavern. She stopped only to clear a path through the possessed creatures, their ruby eyes and broken limbs leaking blackness. She scrambled up the slope they'd fallen from, rising quickly to her feet at the top.

"_You can't run, Tifa!_" The voice sang through the tunnel, setting all the rocks trembling, but Tifa dare not look back. "_She'll find you, one way or another!_"

The very planet began to shake beneath her feet, and Tifa ran as if death itself were chasing her. She vaulted rocks and turned around impossible twists and bends, until she thought she saw light glowing at the end of the tunnel. Demonic cries circled around them as blackened creatures pursued. The ceiling began to crumble with each passing second, until the entire thing threatened to collapse. Just when Tifa thought she could run no longer, she felt Liska's fingers close around her shoulders, and she pumped her legs faster until she burst out into the filtered sunlight. Behind her, the tunnel buckled in on itself, and the force of air sent her tumbling to the ground. The entire world seemed to grind to a sudden halt, and for a long time she lay there cradling the girl in her arms, almost wishing it had.


	13. Bound

**AN: **Phew! Thanks again for your patience everyone. I don't have much time to give a preface for this one (I'm on my lunch break as we speak) but I was really excited to get this one posted, so here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Please review and share your thoughts with me; I very much appreciate it.

* * *

No matter how hard Cloud scrubbed, it seemed as though the blood would never wash from his hands. It had seeped into the cracks in his knuckles and embedded itself under his fingernails, left to dry a deep maroon color the cold mountain air. The water was running pink, the drain howling as bloodied liquid circled down it. He rubbed the bar of soap deep into the lines of his palms, but it wouldn't wash out—not completely. Finally, knuckles raw, nails nearly bleeding, he threw down the soap, slammed the faucet off, and leaned over the red-stained porcelain, panting. He'd had enough of her blood on his hands for a lifetime.

He couldn't remember how it had come to be—the morning lost in a flurry of blurred light, pain, and impulse—but he had somehow made his way up the mountainside just in time to find Tifa and Liska sprawled on the ground outside the mouth of a collapsed cave. Tifa was sitting on the jagged stones, cradling the girl's unconscious body in her arms. As he drew nearer, Cloud saw that Tifa was bleeding profusely from what looked like a large bite mark in her side, though she seemed unfazed by it. She stroked Liska's face while tears cut streaks through the dirt and dust and blood on her cheeks.

When Cloud reached for her, she looked sharply up at him as a wounded animal might do. His heart broke at the sight of her eyes fighting the grey glow creeping into them.

"I didn't mean for this to happen," she choked, her eyes softening. "I didn't mean…"

Cloud ran his hand carefully across the girl's forehead and felt warmth beneath his fingers. "She's alright," he said softly. "She's going to be okay—"

A shadow suddenly cut across Tifa's face, and Cloud looked up to see a huge thunderhead crawling up the mountainside. Lightning danced in its embrace, drawing out slow rolls of thunder that seemed to shake the ground beneath them.

"I'm sorry, Mama…"

Cloud snapped his attention back to Tifa and saw the glassy haze return to her eyes. He grasped her shoulders roughly. "Tifa, we have to get out of here—"

"I'm so sorry—"

"Tifa, _look_ at me!"

She did, and her eyes flickered back to warm brown at the sound of more thunder.

Just then, a figure appeared at the edge of Cloud's vision, and he spun to see Zangan jogging up the path toward them. He stopped when he reached them and leaned on his staff, peering fearfully down at Tifa and Liska.

"We must go," he said gravely. "A storm is coming."

The wind whipped into a sudden whirlwind, threatening to tear Cloud's clothes from his back.

"Give me the girl," Zangan ordered. Tifa looked from Cloud to her sensei, then back to Cloud, still sobbing pitifully. Zangan pushed forth and held out his arm. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and Tifa quickly passed Liska into Zangan's waiting embrace. Without a moment's hesitation, Cloud swept in and linked his arm around her waist in order to lift her to her feet. His fingers slipped in the slick blood pooled on her hip. She fought back a cry of pain as another bolt of lightning clawed its way up the mountainside, spurring her onward. Together, they fled back to the howling city below, the storm chasing them like their own angry memories.

Now, as Cloud looked down at the raw white peaks of his knuckles, he was reminded again of all the times he'd bandaged her wounds and washed her blood from his hands as if it were just any other day. Back then, he had always been able to pretend her suffering didn't bother him, but there was no ignoring it anymore. Now, he felt her pain as clearly as if he were a perfect reflection of all her bones and skin and nerves.

Just then, a sharp, intense pain suddenly lashed through his side as though he'd been stabbed or bitten. His body buckled and he clasped his hand to the spot, expecting it to come away bloody. When he lifted his shirt, however, he saw not blood or punctures, but four distinct red marks embedded in his flesh in a perfect arc. Though they burned and stung like open wounds, they sat only on the surface of his skin, like bruises—or scars. He ran his fingers along them and felt their strange familiarity, and it suddenly struck him how real his reflection of Tifa had become.

He dropped his shirt and forgot the pain when there suddenly came the loud blare of his cell phone in his back pocket. Hastily, he dug it out and read the display before flipping it open.

"Reeve," he said, turning his back on his reflection. "This really isn't a good time—"

"Cloud, where are you?" The weighty demand made Cloud stop in his tracks. He hadn't heard such urgency in Reeve's voice in years.

"Nibelheim," he said. When Reeve didn't reply, he continued. "Reeve, what's wrong?"

The receiver buzzed as Reeve released a long sigh. "There have been reports of some peculiar occurrences on the outskirts of Edge," he replied slowly. "From what Vincent has told me, it's similar to what's happening in Gongaga and Nibelheim."

Cloud's stomach turned. He spun back toward the sink and grasped the cool porcelain.

"What _exactly_ is happening, Reeve?" he pressed, looking at his tired reflection in the clouded mirror.

Reeve paused again. "The Turks have reported abnormal monster behavior and strange weather patterns," he explained. Sandstorms. Thunder and lightning. They are encroaching on Edge every hour. What do you know about this?"

Cloud saw himself age several decades as Reeve spoke. He barely recognized the face staring back at him, brow creased with stress and lips pinched down in a grimace. Then he remembered—he'd seen this face once before, reflected in the placid surface of the lake that lay just outside of the Forgotten Capital.

"You need to prepare," Cloud replied at last. "Form a defensive perimeter around the city. Tell everyone to take shelter in their homes and stay away from the monsters. Order the Turks seal off Old Midgar—"

"Cloud." Reeve cut him off. "Is this what I think it is?"

He closed his eyes to the stranger staring back at him.

"Yes."

* * *

Cloud stood outside the warped oak door for what seemed like hours. He heard hushed voices within, but he was too frightened to listen to what they were saying. It was many moments before he could even lift his hand to the doorknob, and many more before he gave it a quiet, careful turn. The voices stopped as he pushed the door open, and two pairs of eyes suddenly fell on him, flashing like glass in the glare of the lightning.

Zangan stood up from his resting place on the edge of the bed before making his way toward Cloud with a grave expression on his wizened features. He stopped within arm's reach and placed his hand Cloud's shoulder.

"Thank you," the old man said softly, though for what, Cloud wasn't sure. After a light nod, Zangan moved to let him pass.

Cloud turned back to the bed to see the glassy eyes averted from him, instead locked on the sand and dirt and dust whipping by the window. An invisible force drew him closer to her, and the dull ache in his side returned when his eyes fell to the bloodied bandage wrapped around her middle. She would not look at him, not even when he took her hand in his own. It was cold.

"Tifa," he said, voice cracking.

Silence.

"_Tifa_."

She turned to him with eyes like smoldering coals, red-ringed from tears and pain. Another twinge surged through his side.

"You have to tell me everything that happened," he said sternly. She twisted her fingers in his grasp, though he couldn't tell if she made to move them closer or pull them away.

"Why did you go up there?"

Her mouth fell open for several moments, until a tear welled at the edge of her lashes. She lifted her free hand to brush it away.

"I don't know," she confessed at last. "It felt like I was searching for something." Her chest filled with a deep breath. "The Priestess… I thought if we went up there, if we could find the shrine, I could communicate with her and find out what I'm meant to do. But—"

She stopped and blinked.

It took Cloud several moments to realize she was staring over his shoulder at the doorway. He spun to see Imogen's dark shadow standing stone-still on the threshold, her dark eyes glinting with each flicker of lightning.

Behind him, Tifa rose to a sitting position, her hand pressing into her injured side. "Is she alright?" she asked, her voice nearly drowned out by a loud roll of thunder.

Imogen finally flashed a small smile before moving into the room. "Liska will be fine," she replied. "The girl is strong. There is no need to worry."

As Imogen drew nearer, Tifa shifted her weight again and winced. Cloud instinctively reached to support her.

"I'm sorry," Tifa choked to the old woman, her breathing labored.

"Hush, child," Imogen shot back, pressing her hand into Tifa's shoulder. Reluctantly, she lay back against the pillows. "Only fools dwell on the pains of the past. Now, we must look to the future."

Cloud's skin tingled as Tifa's fingers twitched tighter around his own. He could feel the pulse of her veins quicken beneath his fingertips.

"Tell me, little one," Imogen continued, "who did you see in the shadow of the mountain?"

Tifa turned her chin up defiantly, her lips spreading into a thin grimace. "My mother."

There was a long pause, in which Cloud thought the old woman might have stopped breathing altogether. Finally, she heaved a great breath and closed her dark eyes. "Then it is so," she said slowly. "My interpretations were wrong." She paused. "You are not merely an incarnation of the Priestess's will, but rather her descendant. The legacy must have been handed down in your blood for generations. Each serves as Immune until the next shall die—a never-ending cycle; a self-fulfilling prophecy. In life, you are as any other living being, but in death—you are imbued with the power to imprison the Plague."

Imogen seemed to lose herself as she spoke, her words tumbling over one another in epiphany. But then, her eyes grew suddenly harsh and her brow creased, and she turned her gaze sharply back to Tifa. "What did she say to you, little one?" she demanded, her voice light as air.

Tifa looked shamefully away. Imogen waited patiently, her eyes like freshly-forged obsidian glinting down at her. Cloud gripped tightly to Tifa's hand, but it was more from fear that she finally opened her mouth to reply. "She asked me to go with her," she whispered, her voice strangled with tears. "She told me to come home." The air fell dead in the wake of her words—even the storm giving a brief, humble pause. "I couldn't." For the first time since Cloud entered the room, Tifa turned to face them, as if she had suddenly become painfully aware of all the eyes on her. Her gaze fluttered between each of them, panic kindling like wildfire on her features. "I set it free…didn't I?"

A softness fell on the old woman's face just then, and she offered Tifa an almost motherly smile. She lifted her hand and placed it gently on Tifa's wounded side. "We should let you sleep," she said. "My medicines are strong, but there is no better remedy for a troubled heart than rest."

Before Tifa could protest, Imogen lifted her hand and turned away. Cloud saw the questions burning in Tifa's eyes as she watched the old woman move toward the exit, but he knew the answers would break her. He gave her knuckles a light touch before reluctantly releasing her hand and turning to leave. He'd made only three steps when her pained voice broke the air again.

"Cloud."

He turned back to see her palm turned up and fingers curled, just as he'd left them, as if beckoning him back. Not all the will in the world would have let him deny her. He reached to fill the void in her hand, and a moment later, the door clicked closed, leaving them in cold silence.

Tears erupted from the pools of her eyes, silent at first, until suddenly sobs began to surge through her like earthquakes across the cool plains of her flesh. Had Cloud let himself watch her any longer, it would have been enough to bring him to his knees. He would have given anything to cry these tears for her, to swallow the pain and guilt and make them his own—but the only thing he could do was remind her that he was there.

Slowly, Cloud lowered himself to the bed behind her and leaned his back against the headboard. He then took her hands and wrapped them around her own shoulders like a straightjacket, bracing her body against his chest to quell her tremors.

"Please don't cry," he begged, pressing his cheek into hers, wet with tears. "_Please_." It was the only thing he could think to ask of her, if only for the sake of his own fragile heart. "It's going to be alright—"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me this is okay." Her voice cut like the edge of a blade. "Don't lie to me. Don't let me off easy. I don't deserve it."

"Tifa."

"I'm weak. I'm a coward—"

"Tifa, please—"

"I'm _ruined._"

Her body suddenly seized up as if she'd been cursed by a Stop spell. He heard a long breath whisper past her lips and felt it lift the fine hairs on his arms. He held his breath until he could breathe in time with her, letting his lungs empty to make room for the swelling of her own. Slowly, he let his grip slacken until she was lying like a doll in his arms, all rigid limbs and twisted hair. She turned into him and wiped her wet cheek on the blood-stained fabric of his shirt. Suddenly, she reached her trembling hand toward him and threaded her fingers between the downy pink ribbon tied around his upper arm.

"She would have done it," Tifa whispered. "She would have gone and never looked back."

Cloud looked at it—at the small, tattered piece of silky fabric, which had become like an extension of himself over the years, never leaving the contours of his arm for more than a few hours at a time. He hardly felt its presence anymore—hardly remembered the way it slipped against his skin in the wind or hugged his arm as he slept. But there had been a time when it had pained him more than death to wear it, threatening to crush him under the weight of guilt. Now, he found himself wondering which was better.

"Tifa."

She turned to him, her cheek still cradled in the hollow of his shoulder, fingers still twitching around the downy fabric as if it were her lifeblood.

"We should get married." The words tumbled from his mouth like cold water, sending a splash of shock across her tear-stained features. "After all this is over."

"_What?_"

Had he not seen his reflection in the quivering shine of her eyes, Cloud might not have known he'd spoken at all, but the words came to him as easy as breaths to his lungs. "Our lives are always so much bigger than us," he went on. "I want something to remind me how small we really are. Something…to remind me why I come home every night—to remind me why I'm here."

She blinked, and her tears sealed her lashes together like a finger across the barbs of a feather. "…What are you saying?"

He could have showered her with words for hours—told her every thought that had been locked in his heart since he'd first laid eyes on her—but he held back, knowing how fragile she still was. "Sometimes…it seems like all we're here to do is fight," he said. "But I'm not here to save the planet. I wasn't made to be some kind of…hero." He made sure to choose his words as carefully as he would pluck a flower from its stem. "I was made for _you_."

He watched as the shock in her eyes slowly morphed into disbelief, and she pulled away from him as if he'd offended her.

"What do you mean?" Her words, tender and cautious, were nearly swallowed whole by the howling wind.

For reasons far behind his comprehension, Cloud suddenly found himself smiling. "Do you remember our promise, Tifa? The promise I made to you, on top of the well, all those years ago?" He turned his head to look out the window, though he knew he would see nothing but sand and wind and darkness. "That wasn't just any promise. It was more than just words."

Her disbelief soon gave way to a hint of realization, her gaze growing ever distant as he spoke.

"For a long time, I wondered why I always failed at everything—why the people I loved always seemed to slip away from me, no matter how hard I fought. It was like everything I touched was cursed." He paused and brushed his fingers across Tifa's ribbon, which seemed decidedly less worn than his own. "Everything…except you. No matter how close I come to losing you, no matter how far away I go, something always manages to call me back to you."

It struck her hard and fast—her eyes became like mirrors: wide, shimmering and brimming with tears. Her mouth fell open and her body quivered. Her fingers clenched around his arm as if meaning to meld herself to him.

"I'm your Shield, Tifa. I've been bound to you since my first breath—and I'll be with you till my last."


End file.
